The Rook
by MaryMagrathea
Summary: Prequel to my fic The Pawn - Lyra Black, a young American witch, travels to Hogwarts several times each year to augment her education. There, she meets a complicated young man and the two begin an unlikely friendship. Draco/OC. ***Rated M for later chapters. Language/Adult content***
1. Chapter 1

**August 1991  
** **Heathrow Airport  
** **Muggle London, England**

Lyra chatted happily to the kind flight attendant as they meandered through the crowds towards the baggage claim.

"Have you ever been out of the States before, honey?" The stewardess asked.

"No, but I've been to Niagara Falls a bunch of times so I've seen Canada. It looks...well it looks just like upstate New York does I guess," she replied thoughtfully.

The woman laughed.

Lyra followed closely behind her as they approached the rotating carousel where luggage was being spat out of an unseen room like bones from the belly of a dragon. As she watched, Lyra fussed nervously with the little plastic badge hanging around her neck that identified her as a minor traveling alone.

Lyra Black was indeed a minor, eleven years old to be exact. She was also traveling alone, which she could safely say, having done it now a grand total of one time, she did not like. She missed her mom. She missed her bedroom. She missed Brooklyn.

Lyra was on her way to Scotland. She was to spend a week studying at the British School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before heading back to the US and beginning her tenure at Ilvermorny, The American School.

Lyra thought it profoundly unfair that she had to start school before everybody else did. She voiced her displeasure, in no uncertain terms, to her parents. "In the stories, most people who give their kids away just leave just them money or warewolfism. Why did these guys leave me homework?" Lyra mused miserably to her parents as they coaxed her out of a cab at JFK.

The truth was that Lyra's exchange visits were a condition of her adoption. She was adopted by the Black family when she was a baby and part of the deal was that she would go study in Scotland three times a year when she was of age.

Like she said to her escort, she had never left the United States before. She'd never even left New York before. She had just adjusted to the idea of leaving to go to Ilvermorny in Massachusetts when she got the bomb dropped on her that she would be traveling to Europe as well.

"Just be yourself. Be kind and be open to learning new things," her mother had told her.

 _Easy as that_ , Lyra mused to herself. She snapped back to reality when the stewardess rolled her bag over from the carousel.

"Now, let's find your people, shall we?" She said brightly.

Lyra gulped. "Okay."

They looked around the bustling arrivals area at the signs, but saw nothing for her.

"There you are, Miss Black." A crackly female voice came from behind Lyra's shoulder.

Lyra turned to see a frazzled looking, middle-aged woman peering down at her kindly from behind a pair of incredibly thick glasses. She was wearing a frumpy dress with a fringe vest and an impressive number of scarves. She had frizzy blonde hair and was wearing several crystal necklaces around her neck.

"Yes, that's me!" Lyra exclaimed. "It's nice to meet you," she said with instinctive American politeness.

"Lovely to meet you, dear. Professor Trelawney. I am to be taking you into London," the witch replied.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Do you have identification? Since she's a minor, we need to make sure you're approved to take her," the stewardess cut in.

The oddly dressed witch raised her eyebrows and pulled a card from her long sleeve. "Here is my...whatever you call those things, and I can tell you that this young woman is Lyra Black, who hails from Rostrand Street in Brooklyn, New York. She is eleven, prefers dogs to cats and has a brother named Kyle...or wait...Cael? It isn't clear yet," she said in an airy voice.

"Caelum," Lyra offered to be helpful.

"Ah. Yes. There he is. Caelum," the Professor nodded.

"Right," the stewardess replied with a frown. "Well, young lady, it was lovely chatting with you. I hope you enjoy Scotland."

"Thank you! It was nice to meet you," Lyra replied.

The witch led Lyra out to the taxi stand and they piled into a black car. The taxis were black! She started babbling to the witch sitting next to her about how the only black cars back home were for the rich people. Normal people just took the yellow ones, and that was only if they had money that day. Mostly you just took the floo, or the train depending on which part of the city you were in, the wizarding side, or the Nomaj side.

They pulled up in front of what appeared to be an abandoned corner building somewhere in southeast London. Professor Trelawney waved her hand over the rusted doorhandle, causing the door to click, as if unlocking. She ushered Lyra inside.

It was a lively, busy pub. It reminded her of Seven Bells, a bar in wizarding Brooklyn that served as a gateway to Nomaj Brooklyn via it's mirror image sister pub called The Bell House.

Lyra's nerves calmed a bit being in a more familiar scene. She smiled politely at the witches and wizards she passed who were enjoying beer and warm food around worn wooden tables.

Her escort led her to the back of the pub and directed her to a table where a single wizard was sitting, reading a newspaper. A ball of nerves rose back up heavy in her belly. He looked mean. Really mean. He was dressed in all black robes, had black hair, nearly black eyes and a huge hooked nose.

"Severus, here we are," Professor Trelawney said lightly, causing the wizard to look up.

Well...he didn't look any nicer now, Lyra thought to herself. She wasn't sure if he was trying to scowl at her, or if that's just what his face looked like.

The wizard slightly cocked his head to the side and quirked his lips.

"Miss Black, this is Professor Snape. He will be taking you on from here to the castle," the woman informed her before turning on her heel and wandering away without so much as a 'see you later.'

Lyra inhaled warily and turned back to the man at the table. _Be yourself, be kind and be open to learning new things_ , she said to herself, echoing her mother's words.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you!" She said cheerily.

The dark wizard said nothing but studied her intently for a long time. Lyra started fidgeting under his gaze. "Um...are we flying to Scotland? Nice weather today," she said, awkwardly trying to fill the silence.

He stood abruptly, grabbed her arm and Lyra's vision went black.

* * *

 **August 1991**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

She and the professor reappeared in what looked to her like...a dungeon? They were definitely underground, but there were desks and workbenches...so it was like a dungeon classroom? Lyra didn't have a whole lot of time to dwell on it because she suddenly keeled and threw up all over the floor.

"Side-along apparition. It typically makes people sick the first few times. Gets worse with distance and we traveled quite far," he informed her as she retched up what looked to her like a chicken nugget from her lunch at the airport.

As Lyra leaned on a desk for support, panting, her new 'friend' got right to it.

"Miss Black, I care very little if you are yourself and I care even less if you are kind. You are here only to learn and learning you will do. As to your other query from earlier, this is really just what my face looks like. I suggest you adjust to it and I wouldn't hold your breath waiting for me to look nicer as you put it," he stated in a dark monotone.

Lyra looked at him, pale and stunned.

"Did...did you read my mind?" She asked.

"Yes, and I'm going to teach you how you can keep me from doing it again in the future," he replied. "Since you don't have a wand yet, you can clean this up by hand and then you and I will begin."

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Hello! This is a prequel to my story The Pawn. If you haven't read it, this story may not make a great deal of sense to you. This story will read like a series of one-shots from Lyra's time at Hogwarts. There will also be letters between Lyra and Draco to fill in some gaps. I don't expect this story to be as long as The Pawn, I just wanted to put it out there to give some more context to their relationship. It will be rated M for later chapters.

 **Ilvermorny** \- The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
 **Seven Bells/The Bell House** \- Two bars that are mirror images of one another that serve as the gateway between wizarding and Nomaj Brooklyn in this AU.


	2. Chapter 2

**December 1991**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Professor, please. I need a break. I can't…" Lyra trailed off as she slumped against her chair, sweating and exhausted.

"You are weak and undisciplined," the wizard's voice cut out from across the room as he pulled out of her mind and regarded her with clear disappointment.

Despite her better judgement, and maybe because she was a tad delirious, Lyra laughed.

"I hardly see how any of this is funny, Miss Black," he said.

"Eleven," she said with a tired sigh.

"What?" He questioned.

"I'm eleven years old. What am I supposed to be?" She asked, incredulously.

He said nothing, but frowned more deeply than usual and stormed out of the room.

Lyra closed her eyes and felt the sweat on her face tingle as it dried. She wrapped her blue robes tighter around her to ward of the dungeon chill. So much for Winter Break, Lyra thought.

Her parents had put her on a plane the morning after Christmas to go back to Hogwarts. She spent Christmas evening in tears, demanding that she not be sent back.

Was she being mistreated? Not exactly. By and large, everyone was very nice. She loved the Scottish witch who had taught her how to turn a rat into serving dish and enjoyed reading tea leaves with the odd Divination instructor. It was the four hours a day she spent with Professor Snape that she wanted to avoid.

He was instructing her in the art of Legilimency, or the ability to read another's mind and the defensive practice of Occlemency, which was the skill of shielding your mind from unwanted intrusion. They were far too complex for her and both were exhausting to perform. Professor Snape was cruel and aggressive and her stomach would flip for an hour before their sessions.

Lyra's stomach gave a predictable nervous flip then as the door to the classroom burst open. Professor Snape marched back in, but he wasn't alone.

He was pulling a boy into the room by the collar.

"I was perfectly fine where I was. Need I remind you that I am on vacation?! You have my word, Professor, that my father will hear about this," came a snotty, high British accent.

Lyra craned her neck to get a look at the bellyaching newcomer. He was skinny and pale as milk with shock-white hair. Like the Professor, he was wearing all black.

Snape led him over and pushed him out in front of Lyra.

"He is eleven. He is also, like yourself, weak and undisciplined," he said.

The two children frowned at each other silently for a moment before the boy turned back to the older wizard to argue. "Who are you calling weak and undisciplined? You can't make me study. It's Christmas!"

"Be quiet," Snape said dangerously. "Miss Black, you have ten minutes, then we begin again." He walked back to his desk and picked up a scroll to read.

Lyra sighed sadly.

"What are you wearing?" The blonde boy said to her.

"My school robes," she replied.

The boy's eyes widened upon hearing her accent. "You're American!"

She nodded.

"What the devil are you doing here?" He asked.

"Learning," she answered with a shrug and a roll of her eyes.

"Tough luck, that," he offered with a frown.

She smiled. "Tough luck for you too."

His eyes narrowed. "Tell us your name then," he commanded.

"Lyra. Lyra Black."

"Draco Malfoy."

"It's nice to meet you, Draco Malfoy," she replied automatically.

He raised a blonde eyebrow at her and scowled. "I wish I could say the same. You cost me the afternoon. I'm on vacation," he said snobbishly.

"So I heard...several times," she clapped back.

"How dare you talk to me like that, you squid!"

Lyra laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

"Stop that. Stop laughing!" Draco yelled. "What is your problem? Are you mental?"

"You seem like a real jerk, Draco Malfoy," she fired lightly in between chuckles.

Draco stood there with his mouth hanging open, frozen stiff by her audacity. Nobody insulted him. Nobody would dare.

When she got sick of waiting for a comeback, she stood and called back to Snape, who was immersed in his reading. "Professor. I feel fine. Can we start now?" She asked sweetly.

The dark haired wizard looked up, furrowed his brow and came over to join them.

"I'll read him first," Lyra offered. "I wanna see if he has any insults better than squid locked away in that tiny head of his."

Snape quirked his lips. Lyra realized that that was his way of laughing. She smiled at him as she drew her wand. She leveled it at Draco's chest, causing him to jump back and scramble for his own wand, but he didn't have enough time…

"Legilimens!-" Lyra shouted, diving into his mind to the best of her novice ability.

 _Oh gods, oh gods, she's going to kill me. What is she doing?_

Lyra thumped around his thoughts for a moment and discovered that he did have a few insults better than squid, but had been told by his mother to never curse at a lady. She also stumbled upon the fact that her new nemesis thought she was pretty. _Prettier than any of the dead-fish looking harpies vying for his attention in Slytherin House_ , were his exact thoughts.

She turned her wand slightly and ventured deeper to try to access a memory. She saw flashes of Christmas day at a huge mansion. A beautiful blonde woman kissing him on his forehead and a scene of what had to be his parents fighting bitterly about sending him back to the castle so they could go to the French Rivera. The blonde woman wanted to stay with her son, the white haired wizard callously wanted to leave and cart the boy back to Scotland.

Lyra pulled back abruptly. She'd never seen so much before. All she ever got from Snape was that he was thinking about how bad she was. No memories, no depth. This was...different. She didn't expect to see what she saw. She felt terrible about it.

"Stay out of my head, dog!" Draco bellowed as he advanced on her.

"Malfoy, calm down," the older wizard said sternly, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said to Draco. "I...I didn't expect it to work. I'm not very good," she offered to the scowling boy.

"Did you access his memories?" Snape asked, suddenly interested.

"Yes," she replied guiltily.

"I don't know why you're moping, Miss Black. That's what you're supposed to be doing," he replied.

She ignored him and walked over to Draco. He looked furious, and embarrassed.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that without asking you. I've never been able to see into anybody's memories until just now," she explained.

"I don't give a damn about your sorries. You had no right," he sneered.

"No I didn't," she conceded. She looked over at the Professor. "Could we do Occlememcy for the rest of the day?"

Snape rolled his eyes, but shrugged in assent.

"What's that?" The blonde boy asked looking nervous.

"It's a way to shield your mind from being read, by me or anybody," she said, hoping to reassure him. "Wanna learn?"

He pinned her with an acid stare and then nodded tightly.

* * *

Three days had passed since Lyra started practicing with Draco and both of them had made progress that Professor Snape had appraised as 'not terrible.' They had both been able to reliably access recent memories in each other and Draco proved to be a remarkable quick study with Occlemency, better than she was, if she was honest. They were a good match for each other as she was better at Legilimency.

"You let goblins work at your school?" Draco asked in disgust as he pulled out of her mind.

"They're not goblins. They're Pukwudgies," Lyra explained slowly, as if talking to someone simple.

"What in Merlin's beard is that?" He pressed.

"They are an American relative of the goblin. They are very smart and, even though they're grumpy, they're wonderfully loyal and have incredibly deep emotions," Lyra replied. "They do security at my school and keep the grounds. They're so important that one of the four houses at Ilvermorny is called Pukwudgie. My house, to be exact."

Draco burst out laughing. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Lyra frowned. "Said the boy who attends a school with a house called Hufflepuff," she quipped.

"Well, I'm not a Hufflepuff, thank the gods," he replied. "It looked to me like you got to pick your house. Why'd you pick the stupid one? Why does anybody pick it?"

"Okay, first of all, it's not stupid, you're stupid. Second of all, most people don't get to pick. I got to pick because more than one house claimed me. That's the only time you can choose," she explained.

"Which other house of morons wanted you then?" He asked.

"Um...all of them," she said awkwardly. She didn't like talking about it. It had made her a bit of a celebrity at school and she didn't embrace the attention.

"So, why'd you pick the stupid goblin one, Black?" He teased.

"It's not stupid! If you must know, I picked it because my mom was in Pukwudgie House and I love her," she replied honestly.

"Isn't that sweet," he replied with a sneer.

"What kind of evil doofus makes fun of another person because they love their mom," she huffed in exasperation. Never in her life had she met someone who was so instantly negative about everything...except for maybe Professor Snape. What a pair they were.

"Enough," Snape commanded. "We're finished for the day. Go find someone else to annoy with your incessant bickering."

Draco scowled. Lyra smiled.

"Bye Professor! Bye evil doofus!" She chirped cheerily as she grabbed her bag and bounded out the door. It was snowy and cold, but she was dying to bundle up and head down by the lake to enjoy the beauty. She loved snow and in New York it just didn't pile up the way it did here. She enjoyed how it sparkled and made everything quiet. She quickly ascended from the dungeons and made it over to her guest room where she grabbed her coat, scarf and mittens.

She trudged down to the lake and flopped happily into the snow at the base of a huge willow tree. She didn't bother casting a warming charm because she liked the way the cold nipped at her cheeks. She pulled out a book on Legilimency that Snape had given her and lost herself in reading for awhile.

She was abruptly brought back to reality by the force of a snowball impacting with her face. She screamed in surprise and dropped her book. She scuttled around the tree to use it as a shield from her assailant's frigid assault. She drew her wand and crafted an arsenal of lumpy, oddly shaped snowballs to arm herself and hunched down with a devious smile on her face.

She heard a branch snap in the forest to the left of her tree and saw Draco's black clad arm grab a trunk for balance. She hurled a snowball with all of her might and reveled at the soft thump it made as it collided stiffly with his shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Lyra rushed forward, her arms full of fluff and annihilated him. It was glorious, in Lyra's opinion. He squealed and snorted like a piglet, all while calling her unflattering names and threatening to have his father send her to an orphanage in Lebanon.

Lyra stopped abruptly, a snowball in her hand that she had cocked back to launch into his stomach, and tilted her head to the side. "Why Lebanon?" She asked.

He blew some frost from his nostrils and scowled. "I don't bloody know, it just sounds like a bad place to be in a orphanage!" He yelled.

Lyra rolled her eyes and fired the snowball into his belly causing him to make an 'oof' sound and curse at her.

"Had enough?" She inquired.

He said nothing.

She raised another snowball in the air.

"Wait."

"Are you gonna be nice? To me and to Lebanon?"

"Fine, you bi...fine."

Lyra dropped the snowball and used her wand to melt the others so he couldn't use them for a counterattack.

"Okay. See, that wasn't so hard," she said warmly. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing." She extended her hand to him and helped him to his feet, dusting him off a bit while he sneered at her. They walked back to the castle in their own respective silences, hers smug and his angry.

They were about to enter the courtyard when Draco tackled her to the ground and grabbed at the snow around them to shove in her hair and in her face.

Initially she laughed happily and swatted at his hands to get him away. After a few moments though, Lyra realized that he was playing much too rough for her comfort. He wasn't playing at all.

"Draco stop it. Let me up," she said to him but he didn't react. He brought a handful of snow down and smashed it into her face. Hard. Lyra screamed as she felt something shift painfully in her nose. She shoved him in the chest with as much force as she could and sent him toppling to the side. She pushed up to her hands and knees and saw a shower of red drops peppering the snow beneath her.

Draco paled as he saw the blood running from her pretty face. She looked up at him like he was a dangerous animal. She leaped to her feet and bolted away from him.

He tried to hurry after her but she met Professor McGonagall as she ran up the steps and hurled herself into the old witch's arms sobbing, her face and jacket streaked with crimson. The old hag spirited the girl away to the medical wing and Draco trudged back to the Slytherin common room feeling terrible. Sure, she was horrid, but he had been out of control and he hurt her. A girl. A weak little girl. What if she told? What if McGonagall told his father? He would be in so much trouble. The thought petrified him and he sat anxiously staring into the fire for probably an hour before Snape entered and stood in front of him, obstructing his view.

"Did you break that girl's nose?" He roared at the nervous little boy sitting before him.

"I didn't mean to! She started it!" He whined, dismissively.

"Oh really? So I didn't see a memory in her mind of you hitting her in the face with a snowball while she read under a tree?" The older wizard fired.

 _Damn_. "Fine, but she laid into me too!" He protested.

"Yes, do tell, Mr. Malfoy. Where are your broken bones?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Draco scowled and slumped back into the couch miserably.

"What would your father say?" Snape questioned.

Draco sat up nervously. "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

"It's out of my hands. McGonagall told the headmaster," he replied.

Draco groaned. "That evil cow!"

Snape cut him off. "You've got some nerve calling names. Let's not forget that you wouldn't be in this position if you hadn't beaten up a little girl, like some classless common bully."

Draco's face fell. That was probably the most effective reprimand Snape could have hurled at him in the moment and it stung like a hex.

He did feel bad for hurting her. In the aftermath, she had looked at him with more than just fear. She had looked at him like he had betrayed her. Like they were friends and he'd let her down. _Well, they weren't friends_ , he thought sternly. And they would never be friends. He wasn't proud about what he'd done, but she was just beneath him, and that was that. He would make some lazy apology to her and take the hits from his father if they came. He would never see her again afterwards and it would all just go away.

* * *

He walked into Professor Snape's classroom at the appointed time the next afternoon with a paltry little speech prepared to ease his guilt and smooth things over. He waited for ten minutes and nobody showed. He trudged down to Snape's office and knocked on the door. The older wizard was sitting behind his desk, elbow deep in parchment.

"What do you want, Mr. Malfoy," the dark haired wizard asked without looking up.

"Are we not practicing today?" He asked, confused.

"It's Saturday. Classes resume next week. Don't you want a few days off?" Snape replied.

"Right. Yeah, I suppose. Do you know where Lyra is? Figure I should do the groveling bit. Get her to stop her blubbering and whatnot," he said feigning casualness.

"She's gone."

"What do you mean gone?" He asked urgently.

"She left this morning to go back to America," he explained, still not looking up from his scrolls.

"But…"

Snape dropped his quill and looked up at the blonde boy, annoyed.

"Good," Draco said, changing his tune. "Saves me from having to lie to her," he said, trying to sound unaffected.

Snape frowned at him judgmentally and went back to his parchment.

Draco saw himself out and wandered back towards his dorm with an uneasy feeling in his belly. He felt unsettled about not being able to see her before she left. Not being able to make sure she was alright. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It would pass. She was nobody after all.

He strolled back into the common room and saw a red envelope on the center table addressed to him. He knew what it was. It was a Howler. McGonagall had let it slip and now he was going to get it. It was his father's elegant handwriting. Better do it now, he thought. _Don't want anybody else hearing my father tell me what a worthless swot I am who doesn't deserve a name...or air._ Lucius Malfoy was incredibly inventive with his insults, Draco had to concede that fact. He inhaled warily and opened the envelope.


	3. Chapter 3

**August 1992**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Lyra walked into the potions classroom, still high from her morning lesson with Professor McGonagall where she'd finally been able to successfully change the color of her robes. She'd been working on it for days and all of her previous attempts had left her looking like a blotchy mess. Today, she'd been able to transfigure them from their standard blue to a lovely lilac color that looked very nice with her eyes and skin.

She was typically in a bad mood when she had to go to Legilimency with Professor Snape, but today, not even he could bring her down. She'd done some good magic and she looked pretty. She was impervious to bad vibes. _Do your worst, Mr. Grumpy_ , she thought to herself.

"Alright, there Black? You look like an Easter Egg," someone called to her from the back of he room.

Lyra's face fell. She recognized the snotty voice instantly and trudged miserably past the workbenches to their practice area. _Why was he here?_ She hadn't seen him since last winter when he'd been trapped at the castle like she was. They'd practiced together, studied together and Lyra thought they were becoming friends. She thought wrong. The testy little newt had ruthlessly broken her nose after she whooped him in a snowball fight, and Lyra was glad her interval last spring had been free of him. No such luck this time.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" She asked him accusingly.

"Well, you see I, unlike you, actually go to school here," he quipped.

"Aren't you supposed to be on holiday, or whatever you guys call vacation," she grumbled.

"I came back early to get the best pick of beds, plant traps for the first years...you know," he said dismissively, leaning against a shelf of potions.

Lyra gave him a tight nod, but she had a feeling he was lying. _I wonder where his parents are this time_ , she thought. Despite her better judgement, and her poor nose, she found herself suddenly feeling sorry for him. Her parents never jumped at the opportunity to be rid of her. She couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

"Had to make sure you weren't getting lazy," he added with a sardonic smirk.

 _And the sympathy is gone_ , she quipped internally. He didn't deserve it.

* * *

 _You will go because I command it and you will stop whining about it like a petulant little child. Honestly, Draco, if you and I didn't look so much alike, I would think that you weren't my son at all. Too much of your mother in you, I think._

Draco's memories were full of scenes like that. For a twelve year old, he was a good occlumens, but so much of what peaked through was a protracted tale of rejection from his father. Lyra thought Draco was a jerk and the more she read him, the more she understood why that was.

Lyra pulled out of his mind, leaving Draco panting in the high backed chair, looking not just ill, but scared. Lyra locked eyes with him and furrowed her brow in concern.

"What did you see, Miss Black," Snape asked, circling her with interest.

"Homework. Lot of hours practicing that stupid game you all love with the broomsticks and the hoops," she lied.

"Quidditch?" Snape clarified.

"If you say so," Lyra replied.

Snape regarded her critically. "You're lying," he said plainly.

Lyra narrowed her eyes at him. She was not about to spill what she'd seen to Snape. Snape wouldn't care. He was mean. He'd probably join in on the ridicule.

Lyra saw his mouth turn down in what looked to her almost like offense.

"You made it clear that you expect me to learn while I'm here. Place like this, people like you, you're surprised now that I've picked up lying?" She fired at him, hoping to draw his interest to their argument and away from Draco's memories.

"I would watch your tone, Miss Black," the dark haired wizard cautioned her very seriously.

"Or what? You'll send me away! Back to New York? Back to summer like the rest of my friends? Oh no, not that. Anything but that," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No." Severus replied calmly. "Or I'll tell Malfoy over there that you want to hug him after practically every read and that you think...how did you put it...that he has the most amazing eyes," he added with a bored roll of his own.

Lyra gasped and felt the blush explode under her skin but she didn't break eye contact with the older wizard. Even as a child, she knew that what this man, her mentor, had just done to her was petty and cruel. She understood then that there was something more to her relationship with Professor Snape than just student and teacher. She couldn't put her finger on it but it almost felt like they were competitors. They were going to be hard on each other for as long as they did this thing. He would always expect too much from her and she would always get his goat. _Fine, bring it on_ , Lyra said to him in her mind.

Severus blinked and schooled his face into a hard mask of indifference. "We're done for the day," he announced to the room. "You're dismissed." He whipped around and left the room abruptly.

Lyra stood there frozen for a moment, starting at the space he'd just vacated, trying to make sense of it all.

"Well, I can't blame you, Black. My eyes are quite fetching," Draco piped up, reminding her that he was still in the room. Her blush blazed anew. She shot him a look of pure venom that wiped the smug look from his face. Lyra turned her back on him and walked out, anxious for the quiet solitude of her room.

* * *

She didn't show up for lessons with Snape the next day. After ten minutes or so of waiting, Snape banished Draco from his sight and told him to find something useful to do with himself.

Draco wanted to talk to her. He was annoyed that she wasn't there, so he decided to use his afternoon to try and find her. He knew, from the time he'd spent in her mind, that she liked the outdoors, so he wandered over the covered bridge and strolled through the forest on the cliff side of the castle hoping to run into her. He gave up after about an hour and grabbed a book before heading to the astronomy tower to read until dinner. As luck would have it, she was there.

She was leaning on the far railing and looking out at the mountains. She heard the sound of someone behind her and turned. When she saw him, she tensed her shoulders and her expression melted from serenity into wary mistrust.

Draco frowned. "I come in peace. Relax," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

"I don't believe you," she replied.

He shrugged.

"What do you want?" She asked him tiredly.

That was a good question. What did he want?

"I just..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thanks."

Lyra furrowed her brow.

"For yesterday...you know."

Lyra frowned and nodded once, turning back to look at the scenery. Draco came to stand next to her and looked out at the lake. They stood in silence for awhile until Draco could bear it no longer. He was bored, he needed to talk to her.

"Talk. I've heard Americans excel at it," Draco said to her, feigning disinterest.

Lyra turned to him and shook her head in disbelief. "God, you're so nasty! What makes you think you can just boss people around that way?"

"My family is old and very influential. I'm intelligent, rich and it seems that I have the most amazing eyes. So it really is just better all around for people to do what I say," he explained, shaking off the sting of her judgement.

Despite her best efforts, Lyra laughed.

Draco studied her face. He hardly ever saw her laugh or smile. It suited her. Draco could deny it all day, and publicly he would, but this annoying little witch was pretty. She just was. Shame she didn't have any money, or a name. Well, she was a Black, but an American Black, so that didn't mean anything.

"Can I ask you something?" Lyra asked.

He shrugged.

"Is your dad crazy or what?" She questioned bluntly.

Draco flipped instantly. "Don't you dare say a word against my father. He's a great man. A powerful man."

Lyra raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Yeah, so what? He's mean to you. It makes you mean. You're not wrong about what you said before. You are intelligent, you are rich and you do, indeed, have nice eyes. I don't get why he talks to you like that. Other than being a brat and a sore loser in a snowball fight, you're actually pretty cool."

Draco opened his mouth to put the little goblin in her place but stopped because he didn't have a good response.

"I'm just saying you're not bad or anything. You're a normal kid. Like me. And who cares if you take after your mom? She seems nice. And pretty," Lyra babbled absentmindedly.

Draco stood there still as a stone. He couldn't think of a worse jab than to be called normal and compared to some nobody. The aristocrat in him demanded that he destroy her with insults immediately, but another part of him, a part he didn't have a name for, felt that what she said wasn't offensive at all...quite the reverse, actually. Paralyzed by indecision, he said nothing.

Lyra looked over at him and could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. She frowned. For as cocky a person as he was, he sure was struggling with some begrudging support and a little compliment. Her mom would have a field day with this kid, she thought. Her mother Marla was the Grand Poobah of encouragement and self-esteem building.

After awhile, the silence started to get weird. "Okay...good talk," she said to him, reaching down to grab her bag. She started to walk over towards the winding staircase at the back of the tower. "I'm going to get dinner at around six. You wanna come?" She asked.

He snapped back to reality and threw a haughty expression across his handsome face. "Maybe. If I can't find anything better to do," he replied indifferently.

Lyra quirked her lips in amusement. "Okay, Draco. See you later," she said turning around and heading down the stairs.

* * *

Lyra felt the slap across Draco's face as if it had landed on her own.

"Ouch!" She cried, pulling out of Draco's mind suddenly, bringing her hand to her cheek.

Before Lyra had a chance to process what had happened, Draco was halfway out the door, exclaiming in dramatic fashion that he was done with all this rubbish and she could take a flying leap in front of a train for all he cared.

Lyra turned back to Severus who was watching Draco leave with a furrowed brow. He frowned deeply and made to go after him.

"Don't," Lyra commanded, stopping him. She pinned the older man with a look of concern and then left the room.

Lyra found him sulking in a stone windowseat along the great staircase that connected the dungeons to the rest of the castle. He was holding his knees to his chest and staring hard at the black fabric of his sleeve.

She lowered herself down tentatively on the hard rock across from him. She wanted to make him feel better, but she didn't know what to say. She figured he was feeling exposed and alone and those were feelings she understood pretty well, especially when she practiced with Professor Snape. As much of a brat as Draco was, he was an infinitely better partner than their instructor and she didn't want to lose him.

"I'm adopted," Lyra blurted out.

That got his attention. "What?"

"I was born here during the war. My parents, whoever they were, gave me to Headmaster Dumbledore and I was adopted by my mom and dad. In order to take me home, they had to agree to send me here to study a few times a year when I was older. That's why I come," she explained quietly.

Draco regarded her with surprise. All he saw in her memories was that she was a happy little swot who loved school and her family. He would never have known if she hadn't said anything. "Why are you telling me? I don't give a fig if you're adopted."

She rolled her eyes. "I know you put on a good show. You're a rich kid with everything going for you and an army of idiot minions to do your bidding, but there's more to you than that. I've seen it."

He made to argue with her, but she put up a hand to stop him. "I know what you see when you read my mind. My family, we're silly and loud, but we...we love each other. I guess I'm telling you this because I want you to know that it's okay. I've got stuff too."

For just a second, Draco's face melted into a look of heartbreaking vulnerability. He wanted to tell her the truth, he wanted to see if she really would hug him, he wanted his mum. He wanted a lot of things. Lyra gave him a little smile and reached out to squeeze his arm.

The stimulation brought Draco back to real life and he instinctively curled his lips in a scowl. "You don't know anything about me, or my family," he cut out bitterly, turning away from her and dislodging her hand.

Lyra sighed, but was undeterred. "Is your mom really that pretty?" She asked.

He didn't respond.

"Just how big is your house?" She pressed. "Do you ever like...get lost?"

She saw the corner of his mouth quirk up in a little smile. He looked over at her like she was an annoying house fly, but one he was willing to tolerate...for now.

"She's even more lovely in person. My house is probably half the size of this school and I haven't gotten lost in it since I was about three. Any other questions?" He replied in a bored tone.

"What does your mom do?" Lyra asked.

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean, what does she do?"

"What's her job?"

"She doesn't have a job, are you daft? She's just...my mum," he answered, as if she was insane.

"Oh. My mom is a mediwitch," she told him with a smile.

"Your dad lets her work?" He questioned in a judgmental tone.

She cocked her head at him as if he were insane. "He doesn't 'let' her do anything. It's in her blood and she's good at it," she replied. "Do you know what your mom would have liked to do for a job if she weren't so busy momming?"

Draco frowned. "I have no idea," he said honestly.

"Ask her," she suggested, turning her head to look out the window. They were still below the surface of the lake at this point in the staircase, so the window looked out into the dark, green waters. Lyra saw a flash of something in the depths and it made her gasp.

"What was that?!" She exclaimed, shimmying over to the glass to peer out.

Draco looked back and shrugged. "Probably just the squid. It's about lunchtime for him, I'd wager," he said casually.

"Holy crap, dude?! You have a what?! Oh my god! It's huge, look!" She babbled.

Draco rolled his eyes, but then turned to sit next to her and they watched the giant squid perform it's elegant brand of ballet around the lake for awhile before they walked back to the classroom together.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- This chapter takes place over an entire week or so in August 1992. I just wanted to clarify that. Thanks for reading! Please fav/follow/review! -MM


	4. Chapter 4

**October 1992**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco plunked himself miserably into his seat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. His arm was still sore from the fall he'd taken from his broom during the Quidditch match a few days prior and his ego was still bruised from the tongue lashing his father had given him due to the loss of the match.

He picked lazily at a scone, half listening to Goyle tell him a story about torturing a first year Hufflepuff in the fourth floor lad's bathroom. He was about to get up and head back to his dorm for a nap before charms when he heard the screeching of the owls overhead with the day's post.

The letter and package of sweets from his mother he'd been expecting, the white envelope stamped with the tax for Hippogriff Air Mail and postmarked from Boston, he had not anticipated.

He furrowed his brow and tore into it.

 **Hi Draco!**  
 **I hope you're doing well and having a nice fall. My dad and I, along with my History of Magic class, just got back from a trip to the American Museum of Wandlore and it was awesome! I didn't know wands were so cool. I mean, I knew they were cool, but I didn't know just how much went into them. I got this great book that is basically an encyclopedia on wands and what the components mean about the wandbearer.**

 **I learned that my wand (cedar, dragon heartstring) basically says that I'm a loyal pain in the butt with a particular capacity for flamboyant spells. I thought you'd like to know that. What kind of wand do you have? Do you have a wand museum in England? How's Quidditch? Have you broken anything yet? Write me back!**

 **Best,**  
 **Lyra**

 **P.S. - Enjoy the picture and don't think you're too cool to wear the button.**

He poured the additional contents of the envelope into his hand and saw that she had included a picture of her and her dad waiving at the camera in front of a sign for the museum. She'd also sent him a little badge that showed a wand casting the same message over and over again in gold script. "Someone at the AMW thinks I'm wand-erful."

"Hideous," he remarked down at it, with a little smile on his face.

* * *

 **December 1992**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

"Lyra, you got a letter!" her friend Diana called to her from the Pukwudgie common room.

Lyra poked her head out of the washroom with her mouth full of suds and toothbrush. "Wha-?"

"You got a letter, dingus," Diana repeated.

"You...'ingus," Lyra retorted uselessly as she continued brushing.

After she finished, she hurried out to the table in the common where the mail was brought. Sure enough, she had a letter. It was from Scotland. _Ugh_. Professor Snape had started sending her letters prior to her intervals at Hogwarts telling her to read up before her arrival and reminding her that her schedule would be full and merciless. _Oh joy_ , she thought.

She opened the letter and was pleasantly surprised. It was from Draco.

 **Dear Puk,**

 **I've decided to start calling you Puk in honor of your house, and because you have so many goblin-like qualities. I know, it's brilliant. No need to thank me. I got your letter and that awful badge. I can easily confirm that I am far too cool to wear such a thing.**

 **Quidditch is over for now, because of the snow. I haven't broken anything but the spirits of my enemies.**

 **Wandlore? Seems horrid. I have no idea if we have a museum for it. If we did, I certainly wouldn't go. My wand is Hawthorne with a unicorn hair core. I looked it up and found that it means that I am a clever, handsome, powerful wizard with absolutely no flaws.**

 **I wanted to let you know that I won't be at Hogwarts over the winter holiday, my mum wants to take me away to France for a few weeks. Have fun with Snape in my absence. Try not to miss me too much.**

 **Happy Christmas,**  
 **DM**

 **P.S. Enjoy the present.**

 _Took him long enough. Puk? What a dingus. Pukwudgies are cool,_ she thought to herself.

She reached back into the envelope and pulled out a button, like the one she'd sent him. It had a little frog on it which tastefully vomited a message onto the otherwise blank field. "Badges are for losers, so here you go."

Lyra laughed openly down at the funny little thing. She was going to re-gift it to her brother for sure. He would love it.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Sorry for the delay! I was on vacay. Just to clarify, part of this fic will have short chapters like this one to include letters between D  & L during other parts of their education. Happy reading! -MM


	5. Chapter 5

**April 1993**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Is it really necessary for you to walk me everywhere?" Lyra questioned as she followed her snarky blonde warden down the steps to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Well, you know. Safety in numbers and all that," he dismissed.

"What is going on? Everybody is being so weird," she huffed. It was true. She noticed a palpable difference in the staff this time around. They were more on guard, more serious and the students were on an extended break. Draco was back early because his father had already planned a sabbatical to Argentina before the school lengthened the spring recess.

Draco rounded on her and grabbed her arm to draw her towards the wall. "There's a monster loose in the school," he said very seriously.

"What? Listen to you! Already part brain-damaged. See? Quidditch is stupid, Frog," she counseled, shaking her head.

"I mean it," he fired back, eyes narrowing.

"Oh no. Fully brain damaged," she said with a smirk.

He scoffed in her face and carried on down the stairs. "Fine, but it's not my fault if you get petrified, or killed."

* * *

"You gave away the badge? I'm offended. That was a gift!" Draco joked as he pulled out of her mind, referring to the memory he'd just seen of her giving her big brother Caelum the button he'd sent her.

Lyra, panting and sweating lightly, rewarded him with a full smile. He found that he liked all of them, but that smile was his particular favorite.

"He loved it. It's still on his backpack," she informed him proudly.

He quirked his lips at her and helped her to her feet.

"Enough," Snape commanded, bringing their banter to a halt. "Malfoy, escort Miss Black down to see Hagrid for the afternoon."

Draco scrunched his face up in disgust. "She's already American and poor, why expose her to Hagrid. Hasn't she been punished enough?" He joked.

"Hey!" Lyra yelled.

"Miss Black, step out for a moment. I'd like to talk to Mr. Malfoy alone," Professor Snape said darkly.

Lyra looked back and forth between them, confused. "Okay," she muttered before leaving the room.

"I don't want either of you in the castle this afternoon," the older wizard said coldly.

"Why?" The younger asked.

"We're performing another search," he answered.

Draco paled and rubbed an anxious hand through his white hair. He hadn't been lying to Lyra about there being a monster in the school. It had petrified several students and, according to legend, had killed one years ago. To the the best of his knowledge, whatever it was had been targeting mudbloods. Lyra was adopted. It was entirely possible that she was a mudblood and didn't even know it. The thought affected him in several uncomfortable ways and it was a big chunk of the reason that he stuck to her every time she went somewhere. Draco was safe. He was a pureblood, and not just pure, but he hailed from two ancient wizarding families and intuitively understood that old blood was best. People with magic that were born to muggles were just flukes, mistakes. He hoped Lyra wasn't one of them. _She couldn't be,_ he told himself _. She was smart and pretty and better than he was at some spells. No way she could be a mudblood. But then again...Hermione Granger was better than him at almost everything and she was a mudblood, and an insufferable know-it-all..._

"Mr. Malfoy, you may leave...anytime this century," Snape said to him in droll monotone, breaking his train of thought.

Draco cleared his throat. "Right. I'll get her out of here," he replied before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

"I heard you think it, which is just as bad," Lyra argued as they left raw meat and fruit out for the Thestrals per Hagrid's instructions.

"It's just a word, Black, keep your knickers on," Draco dismissed.

"It's really not, Draco. Plus, I know that you've been thinking about me, worrying that I'm muggle born and I think that's just silly. So what if I am?!" Lyra argued.

"You're not," he replied.

"How do you know?" She pressed.

"Because I just do," he answered.

"Are you saying that if I was a...you know what, you wouldn't like me?" She asked, incredulous.

"Who says I like you to begin with, Puk?" He quipped at her.

"Sure. Now, do you have to work to make the bullshit or do you just come by it naturally," she fired at him with a smile.

He looked away smirking and tossed a rotten apple out into the woods.

* * *

"Will I see you in the summer?" She asked.

"When do you come?" He asked.

"August 21st. The day after my birthday," she informed him.

"You have a birthday? I assume you just spawned out of a swamp somewhere," he joked.

"Well, I am adopted, so I suppose we can't rule it out," Lyra deadpanned, not missing a beat.

They both laughed until their sides hurt.

"Keep the jokes coming and I'll think about it," he said, still chuckling.

Lyra smiled and took a piece of parchment out of her backpack. She scribbled something down on it with a pencil and handed it to him.

"What's this then?" He asked, looking down at it.

"My address in New York," she replied timidly. "You can write to me, if you want."

He raised an snotty eyebrow. "Well, I have a lot of plans. Switzerland, China. I doubt I'll have the time, honestly."

"Oh. Okay," she answered awkwardly.

He ripped a corner off the parchment and stole her pencil. He wrote his address down and handed both back to her. "We'll have forwarding, so you can write to me. It might dull the boredom of a long flight if I run out of books." He quirked his lips. "I mean...maybe."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him before wrapping her arms around his neck in a brief hug. She pulled away all too quickly and stuffed his address in the side pocket of her backpack before hoisting it to her back.

"Bye, Malfoy. See you later, maybe," she said to him. And then she walked away.

He had been too shocked by her embrace to respond and registered only how warm she felt and how she smelled sweet, like the rain. Her hair had tickled his ear and he could still feel the weight of her arms on his shoulders.

"Bye, Lyra," he said too quietly for her to hear.


	6. Chapter 6

**August 1993**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Lyra was so bored. She had three hours until her session with Professor Snape and didn't have much to do until then. Draco wasn't there. She'd written several letters to him over the summer detailing what she was up to and in return, he'd sent her one. A single letter in mid-July, telling her briefly that he was having so much fun globe-trotting that he wouldn't be back before the start of term.

She sighed. Snape had been extra horrible this interval as well. Moody and cruel. He would come into their sessions sometimes looking ragged, like he'd been out all night. Now, he was a young-ish sort of guy, early 30's maybe. If he'd been a normal person, Lyra might have thought that he had been out too late having fun, but not old Mr. Grumpy. He was far too square for all that.

His memories were still mostly impenetrable to her with legilimency, but she could read his thoughts easily enough and aside from thinking that Lyra was an incessant pain in the ass, his mind was saturated with images of some terrorist who had escaped from prison earlier in the summer.

It had prompted her to get her hands on a copy of The Daily Prophet and read up on the guy. Sirius Black (hopefully no relation) was a maniac who had betrayed his friends to Voldemort during the war that had been raging when she was born. He apparently went crazy afterwards and blew up a bunch of no-majes in the street with a blasting curse. The friends Black had sold out were James and Lily Potter. Voldemort went to their home and killed them both. He tried to kill their baby but was, for some reason, unable to do so and had never been seen since. He was believed to be dead. The kid, Harry Potter, was referred to as "The Boy Who Lived," and he was famous, even in America, for being the only person in the world to have survived the killing curse. Potter was about her age and was a student at Hogwarts.

 _Wonder if I'll ever get to meet him_ , she thought to herself.

A voice called out to her in the library. It was a woman. Scottish. Lyra smiled. "I'm here, Professor," she called, getting up from her spot and wandering into the main aisle to meet her.

"Oh Miss Black, there you are. Professor Snape would like you to meet him in the dungeons, if you would," she said.

Lyra gave her a tight smile. "Sure."

The older witch gave her a supportive squeeze on the arm. "And good luck to you, dear," she said warmly, before turning and walking away.

 _Well that's not reassuring,_ Lyra thought, following her out of the library.

* * *

"Whoa. Are you okay?" Lyra asked him in genuine concern.

He looked terrible. Professor Snape was usually scary and odd looking, but he was always put together. This was different and it was very unsettling to her.

He looked gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes. His hair was unkempt and, instead of his usual robes, he wore a white dress shirt and black trousers. Neither article of clothing fit him well, they were far too big and he had multiple tea stains on his shirt.

"Sit down," he bit out harshly.

Lyra sat.

"I have to go to London this afternoon and don't have much time. One hour. You will attempt to read me. I will block you. Begin," he commanded, steepling his fingers beneath his chin and regarding her with a tired indifference.

Lyra drew her wand and stood. She really was worried about him, but knew it was useless to argue.

"Legilimens-" she spoke, crashing into his mind with her magic.

 _Can't believe those idiot muggles just lost him. They aren't fit to raise a house cat let alone her son._

Lyra furrowed her brow and was suddenly awash in his...fear and worry? That couldn't be right. Mr. Grumpy didn't have those kinds of emotions. He had disappointment and boredom. What was all of this stuff swirling around in his head?

She felt his exhaustion and an undercurrent of anger, all of which was shrouded in a fog of concern that was thick and heavy. She kept seeing the face of a boy. Dark hair, green eyes. Must be Potter. He's worried about Potter. I mean, it makes sense. Psychopath on the loose and everything. Lyra felt a pang of worry herself for the kid. _Yeah, that would scare the pants off me if I were in his place_ , she thought.

Lyra got back down to business and started trying to breech his mental defenses. She'd spent part of the summer studying Snape's own written notes on ways to overpower the Occlemency of an opponent and they proved an interesting read. Lyra had already mastered the old reliable method of getting around someone's walls by building tracks to carry you where you wanted to go. Snape's method, which always seemed to best her no matter what she did, involved trying to go through the barriers, rather than around them, like water. It was more organic and harder to detect.

Lyra decided to give it a shot, hoping she might get lucky and that it could even play to his vanity (if he had any) by showing that she'd taken an interest in his work.

She came up to the first wall she saw. It was shielded especially heavily by the cloud of anxiety thick in his thoughts. The wall was weathered and battered, which told her it was an old memory. That it was so present in his mind suggested that it was a memory he'd been revisiting a lot, at least recently. _Let's see if we can take you down_ , she thought to herself.

She took a calming breath and began directing her magic in a tiny stream at the base of the mental block, close to an area where she could already see a little crack in the wall. _Use the terrain to your advantage_ , she quipped internally, recalling a line from his notes. _Find the path of least resistance and direct your efforts with precision at points of stress._

Lyra worked diligently for several minutes to no avail. She was about to turn away and go poke around in the fog for a bit longer when she head a voice from behind the wall. It was a woman. She was crying. Lyra furrowed her brow and pushed hard with her magic into it. The wall shuddered and she fell through it to the other side. In to the memory.

His memories weren't like Draco's. He had built subwalls into them, so that even if you could break past his defenses, you'd still only see part of the memory. It was good work. Complicated. Lyra looked out into the distance and was engulfed in a wave of crippling sadness. His sadness.

The crying woman was gone, and Lyra saw only Snape walking up the stairs at a restaurant or pub to access an upper room. He opened the door onto two wizards speaking by the fireplace in a hushed tone. Lyra recognized the elder wizard immediately, although she'd only met him once. Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts. The other she didn't know, but he bore a definite resemblance to the man standing next to him. Brothers, she assumed. Maybe cousins.

 _"Ah, Severus, come in," the older wizard said._

 _Snape walked in and lowered himself uneasily onto a couch._

 _"The child?" Dumbledore questioned._

 _Snape didn't move for a moment but slowly, shifted one arm of his heavy cloak revealing a bundle of blankets. The change in light caused the baby within them to stir and begin to fuss. He drew the infant closer to his body and looked down at its round little face. Short nose, natural frown, black hair. He frowned at the sleeping child and Lyra thought her heart would break with the force of all of the emotions he wasn't showing in that moment. Is that Harry Potter? She wondered._

 _"His name?"_

 _"Her name is Lily," the dark haired wizard said quietly._

 _Dumbledore nodded sadly and peaked over to look at the baby's face. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Where is her mother?"_

 _"Her mother is safe and in agreement with our arrangement," Snape replied coldly._

 _The older wizard sighed deeply, looking wearily down at the child. "I fear that Lily is only the first of many such little ones that will be in need of hiding during these dark times."_

 _Severus felt nothing. He had gone numb._

 _"Aberforth and I will look after her until a suitable family can be found. I give you my word, Severus," Dumbledore said, hoping to snap the young man out of his daze._

 _A few minutes passed with no one saying anything. The baby seemed sensitive to the moment and started to cry. Severus looked down at her but didn't move to comfort her._

 _Dumbledore bent down to reach for the child and Snape clutched her closer, drawing away slightly. "We...I have some conditions for her adoption," the younger wizard spoke out suddenly._

 _Dumbledore pulled back and nodded. "Of course. And they are?"_

 _"For her safety, she can be renamed, but I'd like her given name retained as her middle name," he said, feeling the panic starting to rise in his chest._

 _The older man nodded. "Is there anything else?"_

 _He looked down at his daughter and his throat clenched painfully, an instinctive maneuver he'd adopted when he was young to prevent insipid tears. "When she's of age, as long as it's safe, I'd like her to study at Hogwarts and I'd like to oversee part of her education, provided I survive," He hadn't planned on saying that, but this couldn't be it. She was part of him and he wanted to...needed to see her again._

 _Dumbledore hesitated. "Severus, I'll do everything I can to see that happen," he said sympathetically._

 _"See that you do, because it's non-negotiable," he fired back, still looking at the baby who had quieted to the sound of his voice, like she always did. He squeezed her infinitesimally closer to the safety of his body, closing his eyes and trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms._

 _He stood abruptly and pushed his only child into the arms of a man he barely trusted and bolted out the door without another word._

Suddenly, Lyra Lily Black was shoved with incredible force out of the memory. The impact was so hard that she tumbled out of his mind and fell to the ground. She sat frozen, looking up at him in disbelief.

He was on his feet in an instant, panting heavily, eyes black as night. He looked wild. He looked...lost? After catching his breath, he stalked over to where she'd fallen and towered above her.

"You will never access my memories again. Is that understood?" He said to her quietly, voice quivering.

"IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!" He bellowed at her. She flinched in fear and his stomach twisted painfully at the sight.

She stared down at the ground, two tears slipping down her flushed cheeks. "You can't be. You don't even like me. You think I'm stupid," she whispered down at the stone floor.

"Lyra," he said as dispassionately as he could.

She looked up at him.

"You cannot tell anybody what you know. I'm not...it's not safe for you," he explained.

She furrowed her brow. "Then why am I here?" She cried, burying her face in her hands and falling into open sobs.

Snape frowned down at her. He hesitated a moment but then reached out an unsure hand and ran it over the crown of her head, down her black hair. His hair.

He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped himself. He dropped his hand and left, leaving her lost and devastated on the cold floor of the dungeon.

* * *

Lyra passed the last three days of her interval in a glazed stupor. She went to her lessons, said all of the appropriate words to indicate that she was present and engaged, but she wasn't there.

Professor Snape had returned the next day as if nothing had happened. He ran her ragged testing her occlemency, which was particularly weak, due to her emotional state, and then they spent the last two days brewing amortentia, an advanced love potion.

He informed her that the potion, if done correctly, should emit an odor that reminds the affected of a loved one. To Lyra, it smelled like sandalwood and snow. She clicked her tongue down at her cauldron, as if offended her. It smelled like Draco, because of course it did.

She spent her last afternoon in Scotland exploring the bluffs alone, trying to remember how to feel.

She made her way back to her room to gather her things and met Professor McGonagall down by the Great Hall where they would apparate back to The Leaky Cauldron in London and make their way to the airport.

"All set then, Miss Black," the older witch said to her fondly.

"Yes, ma'am. Ready to go," she replied.

"This came for you today. Long range post from...China?," McGonagall said to Lyra, producing a little package from her robes and handing it over.

Lyra studied it with a frown and opened it. She tipped the little box over and a single silver bangle fell out into her palm. It was a snake, joined head to tail, and it had a set of sparkling blue jewels for eyes. It was lovely, and it looked expensive. She looked inside the box for a note and pulled out a small piece of paper. She recognized the script instantly.

 **Happy Birthday, Puk. Try not to miss me too much.**  
 **-DM**

Against all odds, and after everything that had happened in the last week, Lyra walked out of the castle with a smile on her face and that was no small feat.


	7. Chapter 7

**October 1993**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra was sitting on an overstuffed couch in her common room when someone passed by her and dropped a letter into her lap, on top of her open book. She tore into it and couldn't get through the first line without smiling.

 **Puk,**  
 **So the bad news is that you have the manners of a cave dwelling troll and have yet to write me, thanking me for your birthday gift. The good news is that I will be available after Christmas and you can grovel to me in person. A bit of advice. The more shameless and sincere your heartfelt apologies, the better. I am expecting it to be good, Black. Don't let me down.**  
 **Cheers,**  
 **DM**

Lyra let her smile drop a fraction. The brat prince was right. She had forgotten to thank him for the bracelet. She'd been trying not to think so much about Scotland and all of the new heaviness that went with it. She was shocked that she hadn't written him though, she wore the bracelet everyday. She looked down at her wrist, studying the way the snake's sapphire eyes reflected the firelight. She shoved her book aside and grabbed a quill.

* * *

 **October 1993**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

A letter landed in front of Draco, dropped by some unseen owl, as he absently read a little blurb about centaurs he'd found in his Magical Creatures textbook. He looked down at the envelope and swallowed his smile. _Speaking of magical creatures..._

 **Frog,**  
 **You're right, I'm sorry. I love the bracelet. Thank you so much for thinking of me. I hope you had fun on your vacation. What was your favorite place? Other than England and Scotland, I've never even really been outside of New York. Have you ever been to New York City? I told my mom about you and she says hi and that you and your family are welcome any time.** **I'm really glad you're going to be there this winter and I will prepare a grand speech of apology to soothe your delicate feelings. No really, it'll be huge. I'll release the doves and everything. You're gonna love it.**  
 **Best,**  
 **Lyra**

Draco was struck by a smile that he couldn't hide and stuck her letter in his backpack so he could read it again later, and maybe answer it...if he got around to it. He was terribly busy.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Short one here. More to come. Happy reading! -MM


	8. Chapter 8

**December 1993/January 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"What's a trust fund dispensation?" Lyra asked, cocking her head as she pulled out of Draco's mind. She was looking at his memories of Christmas Day and that had been, without doubt, his favorite gift, but to Lyra it only looked like a piece of paper.

Snape snorted at her question and Lyra turned to him raising her eyebrows. She'd never heard him snort before, so she assumed that whatever she said had to be really, really funny.

"Money, Puk. Loads of it," Draco answered. "And it means that I can get my own box for the Harpies this season if I want," he added smugly.

"Ah," she answered, walking up to him so they could change places. Lyra settled herself in the high backed chair and took a few breaths to level her emotions and set her defenses.

Draco stood across from her and entered her thoughts. She was hungry and she missed her mom. Those things were near permanent fixtures in her mind when he read her. He flipped through her Christmas, and felt her relief about doing well in her mid-term exams, before he caught a whiff of something on the air. It smelled like potions and snow. He flitted around a bit until he found a barrier that was absolutely saturated with the smell, and something else. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to see that memory.

He went to work, trying to surmount her defenses. Lyra may have been the more powerful legilimens, but he was the more persistent. She would access one of his memories quickly, taste it and move on. His love of details wouldn't allow that. Where she would witness and report dispassionately, he would analyze and strategize, seeking connections between the memory and the nature of the subjects. Because of that, he knew more about Lyra than he let on, and more than just what he'd seen in her head.

He knew her occlemency suffered when she was hungry, and he felt like, regardless of purpose, she didn't block him as hard as she used, to. It was almost as if she didn't want to, or didn't care.

He laid a track around the wall she'd put in front of him and found his way inside. He saw Lyra alone at a potions bench. She looked much like she did today, skinny and tan, black hair to her shoulders, just a tad shorter than it was now. She was brewing something. She added an ingredient to her cauldron and peered down. A pinkish steam rose up and Lyra closed her eyes and inhaled the vapors, cracking a tiny smile. She then let her face drop, rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Draco breathed in and registered the scent in the memory. Crisp snow and something warm, like vetiver or sandalwood. He liked the smell. It was comfortable. It reminded him of his bedroom at home. _Wait a tic..._

He drew closer to her workspace and saw an potions book open to the recipe for what she was brewing. It was Amortentia. A love potion. It was an advanced and highly complicated thing to make. Draco had only heard of it because he'd snatched one of his mother's romance novels one day while he was bored on holiday and it happened to be a story about this particular potion. He knew that one of Amortentia's effects when brewed correctly, is that it emits a smell that reminds each individual in the vicinity of someone they desire. To Lyra, the Amortentia smelled like his bedroom. It smelled like him.

Draco leaned in to scavenge for more context when Lyra slammed iron barriers around him on all sides with such force that he was nearly pushed out of her mind all together. He scanned the terrain for hints of her feelings. Embarrassment. Fear. Shame. And she was still hungry.

Draco broke his connection with her and regarded her in confusion as she panted in the chair, looking everywhere but at him.

"Professor, can I take a break, please? I'm thirsty," Lyra asked meekly.

Snape frowned at her. "I suppose if you must," he replied.

Lyra all but apparated out of the room, trying in vain to hide her blush.

Draco watched her retreat with an expressionless face, trying to slow the thundering of his heart in his chest.

* * *

"What did he see?" Snape asked. He'd asked her to stay after the session to question her privately.

"Nothing about you," she replied honestly.

The older wizard sighed heavily at her evasiveness. "Miss Black, you can tell me or I can take the information from your mind. It makes little difference to me."

Lyra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "He saw part of my last visit that I didn't want him to see. That's all," she said dismissively.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her and drew his wand.

Lyra scoffed and stepped away from him. "Look, if you must know, he saw when we brewed Amortentia. I got embarrassed because my potion smelled like...Anyway, I didn't want him to get the wrong idea," She said quickly, eyebrows raised defensively.

For just a moment, the older wizard looked furious, but he quickly schooled his face into a mask of annoyance. "Nothing else?" He pressed.

"No. I have the subwalls in place, like you showed me," she countered.

"Good. You may leave," he dismissed her.

Lyra pursed her lips in aggravation and left the room.

* * *

"It's too slippery. I don't want to," Lyra argued, eyeing the lake with suspicion.

"A New Yorker that's afraid of ice makes about as much sense as an Englishman that's afraid of tea, meaning none at all. Up with you, Black," he pressured, pulling her to her feet.

Lyra groaned and allowed Draco to transfigure blades on the bottom of her boots. Draco did his own and then glided out on to the surface of the lake with graceful ease.

Lyra frowned. The kid would probably look pretty falling down a flight of stairs. _Hmmm...maybe I'll push him and we can test that theory_ , she said deviously to herself. She waddled tenuously out onto the ice. It wasn't that she'd never skated before, it was just that whenever she did, she typically spent more time on her belly than she did upright.

She took a few choppy steps and heard Draco's obnoxious snicker from over her shoulder.

"Fine work, ice goblin," he called to her.

"Shut up," she replied, holding her arms out for balance.

He skated up next to her and smirked at her struggling form. "Gods, you're stiff as reeds," he remarked, clicking his tongue. He moved in front of her and took both of her hands in his. He started skating backwards skillfully, pulling her along for the ride.

Lyra looked down at his hands in a daze for a moment. They were warm and soft wrapped around hers. His fingers were long and elegant and his skin was pale as porcelain. They were good hands. By comparison, hers looked like those of a dirty toddler, small, stubby and tan.

"You planning on helping? I'm not a reindeer, love," he remarked, bringing her back to the present and causing a blush to bloom across her face over his use of the L-word. Lyra knew enough British people to understand it's meaning in common conversation, but Draco had never called her that before. It was always Black or Puk. Her surname or an insult.

She started moving her feet in clumsy little strides while Draco guided her further on to the ice.

"Not so far out to the side like that, you're wasting your energy. You want to move forward. It's like walking. Look," he counseled. He dropped one of her hands and spun himself so he was next to her. He demonstrated his point for her slowly while she watched.

She furrowed her brow and tried to recreate his movements with her own legs. It helped, she moved a little more smoothly. She kept waiting for Draco to pull away from her and let go. He was an impatient kid and she assumed he'd rather go fast. He surprised her by staying close as they skated in a slow circle on the edge of the lake.

He'd been looking for excuses to touch her for the past two days. During one practice session, he caught a memory of her complaining to her brother about not wanting to go ice skating in the city because she was hopeless. _That will do nicely_ , he had thought to himself.

Her small hand fit entirely inside his own. Her skin was soft and chilled by the winter air. She had made an accurate assessment of her skill on the ice. She was mostly hopeless. With a bit of coaching, however, she got to the point where they could move around the lake. He was happy to overlook the frustratingly slow pace she set for the enjoyment of keeping their hands joined, and Lyra made no move to let go. In yet another miracle, she didn't say anything about it, talkative litte git that she was.

They spent several hours on the ice together, hand in hand, until they both gave in to the cold and went inside for cocoa.

Even as Lyra laid awake that night, much later, she could still feel her hand tingling from the contact. She rolled over on to her stomach so not even the canopy above her bed would have to witness her dopey smile.

* * *

The rest of her stay went by quickly, far too quickly for Draco's liking. Before he realized, he was giving her a sarcastic, noncommittal farewell just outside of the great hall.

"Have a good year, Puk. I hope you're better at your exams than you are at ice skating," he said to her.

Lyra narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you worry about my exams, Frog. I do just fine," she said smugly. Draco knew that. He'd spent enough time in her mind to know that she excelled academically. He was just being a jerk. "Try not to break your face playing Quidditch. It's the only part of you I'd miss," she purred back at him smoothly, trying her hand at a little flirt.

Draco rewarded her with one of his breathtakingly handsome smiles and Lyra felt her heart start to race.

He was dangerously close to blushing, but managed to keep himself in check. She was flirting with him, but not in the shallow and stupid way he was used to from Pansy or any of the other girls in his house who chased him for his money and name. She was coming after him on his own level and he loved...er just really liked that about her. She challenged him. She didn't fawn all over him trying to get his attention. She thought he was handsome and she liked him, but it wasn't enough to reduce her to some mindless, swooning doormat.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her, but he was nervous and didn't want to screw it up. Maybe he should practice a bit with one of the Slytherin girls so he was in better form when she came back in the spring. _That would be easy enough..._

Lyra looked away from him and pulled something out of her bag. "I brought this for you," she said sheepishly, pushing a battered book into his hands. "It's a story about a witch who falls in love with an enslaved wizard just before the American Civil War. It's uh...a little romantic but also has some interesting battle scenes and history and stuff. It's my favorite," she explained.

Draco looked down at the book. He had so many quips ready to fire back at her, but something stopped him. "Well, it can hardly be any more dull than my potions textbook," he said turning the book over in his hands. "Maybe about the same," he added with a smirk before slipping it into the pocket of his jacket.

Lyra rolled her eyes at him and the two stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Miss Black, Professor Snape wants you to meet him by the gate," a female voice called to her from a distance.

"Okay. Thank you," Lyra called back, looking up at Draco. "Bye," she said to him quietly, a little smile playing across her lips. She drew a breath to say something more to him, but thought better of it and turned to walk away.

"Lyra," Draco stopped her.

She turned back and he walked up to her, getting quite close. He took the green and gray knit scarf from around his neck and placed it around hers before picking up a corner of it and holding it up to her nose. "Breathe," he commanded.

She inhaled the scent of warm sandalwood from the scarf and her eyes fell shut.

"You smell like the rain," he told her softly, dropping the end of the scarf as his stomach flipped nervously. She opened her eyes and he watched them melt like warm honey. _Beautiful_ , he thought.

"And do you like the rain?" Lyra whispered up at him.

He gave her a gorgeous half smirk and dropped his gaze. "I do," he muttered before he turned and walked away, down the long stone corridor that would lead him back to the Slytherin common room.

Lyra watched him go for a moment, trying to control the speed of her breath. She picked up the scarf again and breathed him in. _Girl, you are in trouble_ , she thought to herself. She had little time for analysis as the heavy hand of Professor Snape landed roughly on her shoulder, scattering her thoughts and killing the butterflies in her stomach.

"We're leaving. Now." He commanded, turning her and steering her out the door.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Longer one this time! Please follow/fav/review if you like what you see, and even if you don't! I'm always open to suggestions. Thanks all! -MM


	9. Chapter 9

**April 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Malfoy. A word," Snape called to him as the rest of his third year potions class filed out of the room.

Draco lazily sauntered back to the professor's desk where he was already elbow deep in reviewing essays.

"You wanted to see me, Professor," Draco reminded him.

"Yes," he confirmed, not looking up from his work. "It's Lyra. She won't be coming next week. She's been injured," he informed him, devoid of emotion.

Draco's body tensed. "Injured? What do you mean injured?" He asked, trying not to telegraph his concern.

"Motor vehicle accident in Boston. I've spoken with her. She had a concussion, few broken bones, but she's fine otherwise. She'll be back during the summer recess. She wanted me to let you know," he explained in a bored tone.

Draco blinked hard a few times as the adrenaline coursed through his body. He shook his head and forced himself to focus. "Right. I'm glad she's alright," he said neutrally.

Snape made a disinterested noise and motioned to Draco that he was dismissed.

Draco walked away feeling numb. She was hurt and he wouldn't be able to see her for months.

* * *

 **May 1994**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra trudged into the cafeteria, head throbbing after her fourth year arithmancy class. She liked the challenge, but was beginning to think that skipping ahead in that particular subject was a bit of a wash. Plus, though her bones had been healed, her cuts mended, she still felt a little sore from the accident. She sat down at a table and waited forlornly for a sandwich and her friends...in that particular order. She was starving.

She was just about to tear into her turkey on rye when a package fell from the rafters onto her plate, effectively squishing her lunch. _Oh come on_ , she said to herself. She peaked at the little box and forgot her ruined sandwich immediately. _Draco_. She ripped the box open and pulled out a piece of parchment.

 **Lyra,**  
 **All this talk about Quidditch and you go and get yourself banged up in some gods-awful Muggle contraption. You are never to set foot in one of those things ever again. I forbid it. I've had my family's alchemist make you some salves for muscle aches and head pain. Write me if there is anything else you need. On second thought, write me anyway so I can be sure you haven't suffered any brain-damage...outside of your usual.**  
 **DM**

Lyra narrowed her eyes at the scroll.

She pulled two small jars out of the box that looked to be made of precious metals. She read the instructions for the first that stated: _Apply to temples for relief of head pain._ She shrugged and rubbed a dab of the oily substance onto the sides of her forehead. Almost immediately, she felt a soothing hum begin to radiate from her temples. It traveled down behind her eyes and then she felt a pleasant warmth trickle down her spine. She blinked in confusion for a moment and found that her head pain was gone and, more than that, she felt calm and focused. She looked back down at the little jar. _G_ oo _d stuff_ , she thought.

She reread the scroll and smirked. She had an idea.

* * *

 **June 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco was allowing Pansy Parkinson to play with his hair while he flipped absentmindedly through his divination textbook. He had forbidden her from speaking after her third annoying overture into Slytherin upperclass gossip. He would listen for a bit, but after a point, he really couldn't care less who was shagging who and whose dad was shagging the maid. Also, Pansy's voice drove him batty.

She had been trained to use the artificially high timbre commonly taught in pureblood charm schools. Draco thought they all sounded the same, those girls, like pretty birds chirping vapidly about ballgowns and promise rings. Nevertheless, he knew he would likely have to marry one of the little pigeons some day, so he figured he'd better stick to the spineless ones he could silence on command.

In no great surprise, Pansy had been eager to go in on marathon snogging sessions with little suggestion on his part. Kissing her had some distinct advantages in that it kept her quiet and also gave him a practice pitch, so he could gauge what worked and what didn't. As a result, however, Pansy was peacocking around like he was going to make it official any day. He wasn't (gods no), but he figured it wasn't his job to keep her from jumping to conclusions either. The situation suited him for now.

He was about to give up on divination and turn in when Blaise called out to him from the other end of the common room.

"Oy, Malfoy! You've got a letter," his friend informed him.

"Well, bring it here, then. Can't you see how bloody busy I am?" He replied in mock exasperation.

Zabini made a face and launched a small envelope his way that speared him in the chest with a dull thunk.

"Thanks, you wanker," Draco quipped, rubbing where it had hit him.

"You are most welcome, fellow wanker," Zabini quipped back with a little bow.

Draco smirked and looked down at the envelope. Hippogriff Air Mail. Boston. _Lyra._

He sat up suddenly, dislodging Pansy's fingers from his hair.

"What is it, Draco?" She asked sweetly, scanning the item for information. For signs of a potential threat.

Draco threw his walls back up and shrugged. "Distant cousin on my mum's side. Silly little thing. Personally, I think she's a bit slow. My mother makes me exchange boring pleasantries with her in case we ever need a contact in America," he explained. He closed the letter inside his textbook and leaned back into Pansy, so she could continue her petting while he impatiently counted the seconds on the clock until he felt confident he could escape without arousing suspicion.

After he was free he tore into his bedroom and shut the bed curtains around him. He retrieved the letter and ripped it open.

It was a picture. Lyra sitting in the open back of one of those stupid Muggle death machines, a truck he thought it was called, with her black hair trailing behind her. She was wearing jeans, a snug red t-shirt and a cocky smile. She raised her hand and waved at the camera, which caused the snake bangle he'd given her to sparkle at her wrist. He flipped the picture over and read:

 **Frog,**  
 **Oh, you forbid it, do you? Well, in that case...**  
 **Thank you so much for the potions, they helped a lot.**  
 **I feel much better now, except for the fact that I miss you,**  
 **which means that I probably do have some brain damage. Oh well.**  
 **-Lyra**

He smiled down at her words and turned the photo back over so he could study her. He could see no obvious signs of injury, she looked fine. Well, she looked better than fine. She looked happy, and beautiful.

* * *

 **June 1994**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra couldn't sleep so she laid awake in her bed trying to recall potion adjuvants. She had a big final tomorrow and was nervous, so naturally, rather than rest, her brain decided to race. _Aconitum and Argentum are used together in production of defensive brews. Using one of them alone can be fatal. Aconitum and Argentum. Aconitum and Argentum. Double A's or you die_ , Lyra said to herself.

She sighed and rolled onto her side. Two more to go _. Two more finals and you can go home. Then summer...then Draco, she told herself._

She reached into the side table next to her bed and pulled out his last letter. She flopped onto her back and studied it for the millionth time.

He'd sent her a picture of himself as a reply to the one she'd sent him. It was an action shot. He was upsidedown on a broom, racing alongside an opponent in blue robes and reaching out for some unseen object. He looked intense, and mean. She would have liked to say that his scowl made him look unattractive, but nothing really made him look unattractive. She quirked her lips in annoyance and flipped the picture over to read his note again:

 **Lyra,**  
 **It seems that you've suffered the kind of concussion that improves your taste.**  
 **I miss you also. See you in August.**  
 **DM**

She smiled at his words and then stared up at the ceiling of her dorm. She did miss him, and she thought about him a lot. Practically every day something would remind her of him. The smells in her potions lab, a snowball fight with her friends, even somebody being snotty to her. To be honest, she had conflicting emotions about her attachment to him. He was a bully, plain and simple. She knew it and he knew that she knew it. Typically, Lyra despised bullies, but she didn't despise Draco, not by a mile and the tension that caused within her made her head spin.

The big difference between him and the bullies Lyra encountered at her school was that she knew Draco from the inside. She had a kind of context for the way that he was. His memories and their friendship had made her realize that bullies aren't born, they're made. Now, that didn't mean you had to just stand there while they pummeled you, fighting back was important, but her relationship with Draco had made her a little more patient with people who lashed out first and asked questions later. She could see how, with so many of them, it was a self-preservation tactic, something they did because they were afraid.

An interesting result of all of this was that Lyra was becoming an excellent negotiator and peacemaker, able to bring people together by being sympathetic and non-judgmental. She figured that bullies were unavoidable and you needed to include them in things like everybody else, even if they needed some special handling.

And Draco...Draco was worth the extra effort. While he was proud, snobby and elitist, he was also clever, insightful and loyal. Seeing his devotion to his mother from inside his own mind was something that always made Lyra melt when she read him, not that she would ever tell him that.

 _Interesting kid_ , she thought to herself, as her eyes fluttered shut and she drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**August 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Draco!" She called running up and unabashedly flinging himself at him.

This time, he was ready for her. He caught her around the waist and lifted her off the ground, inhaling her scent and enjoying the way her small body felt in his arms.

"You need to lay off the sweets, love," he poked, lowering her back to the ground after a moment.

"As always, ten seconds into one of my exchanges and I wish you were mute," she chirped at up him sweetly. She sighed. "So pretty. Such a shame about your personality," she quipped, patting him gently on the cheek.

He grinned broadly and bent down to pick up her bag for her. "Lead the way," he directed, following her down the hallway.

"How was you summer?" Lyra asked as they strolled to her room together.

"Dull. Mum and I went to Malta and Vienna, but other than that, I've been a prisoner at the manor," he replied. "You?"

"It was good! You know my brother graduated from his conservation fellowship, so we got to go upstate for that and then my mom let me do a junior internship at the Museum of Modern Art in Manhattan so I could learn about the pieces and how Nomajes do curation and preservation. It was amazing," she chirped happily.

"Wait a tic. That was a Muggle thing? You did an apprenticeship for...Muggle art?" He asked, incredulous. "Sounds...useful."

"Well, it wasn't really useful, and that's what made it so wonderful. Do you know anything about Nomaj art?" She asked.

"Gods no, and why would I want to?" He countered as Lyra spoke the password that opened the door to her guest apartment in one of the old wings.

Lyra groaned. "Because it's beautiful and intelligent and complicated, just like wizarding art," she explained.

"Bollocks," he replied nonchalantly as he looked around the room. "What is this place?"

"It's where I stay, and what do you mean bollocks? You just said yourself that you didn't know the first thing about Muggle art, so how the hell would you know? Honestly kid, for a smart person, you are really dense sometimes," Lyra mused, grabbing her bag from him and setting it outside the door that led to the bedroom. She paced over to the tiny kitchenette and started rummaging for cups.

"I didn't know any of this was here," Draco admitted, ignoring her half insult/half compliment in favor of investigating the space.

"According to Professor Trelawney, it's for visitors. There are four of them, one for each house for when alumni come through, I guess," she said with a shrug, using her wand to heat a kettle.

The room was very familiar to him and it made him inexplicably happy to know this is where she lived while she was here. He was surprised she'd never showed him before. If he had a place like this all to himself, he'd show it off all the time. Stone walls, arched ceilings, leather furniture, intricate green tapestries and a giant fireplace with an ornately carved mantle of intertwining snakes. It wasn't as grand as Malfoy Manor, to be sure, but it felt like home to him.

"It used to scare me when I first came here," Lyra said scanning her eyes over the room. "Guess I'm used to it now. She told me I could stay in whichever one I wanted last time and I just keep coming back to this one. It's pretty cool at night."

"You should see it underwater," Draco muttered, looking over the miniature version of the Slytherin crest over the fireplace, lacquered in deep green, silver and black.

"What do you mean?" She questioned, pushing a mug of tea into his hands and looking up at the crest herself.

"This room. It's the Slytherin common room. I mean, it's a bit smaller, and it's above ground, but everything else is the same. You said it looked cool at night. The actual one is below the surface of the lake, like the dungeons are. It's always night," he explained wistfully.

She smiled over at him. "Seriously? That's awesome!" She exclaimed. "Wanna see the rest?"

She showed him the private bathroom, complete with a huge tub that was filled by, predictably, a giant iron snake and then took him across to the bedroom. "Is this what your room looks like?" She asked, ushering him inside.

"I share a room with four other lads, love. My room is a cesspool of sweaty Quidditch robes and Blaise Zabini's dirty socks, so no. But this is brilliant."

The room was large, dark and cool. A huge four poster bed occupied the bulk of it. It was draped in emerald curtains embroidered with silver snakes. The curtains were drawn and the bed was covered in fluffy pillows and thick blankets in shades of green and gray. He could hear the sound of running water and didn't know if that was real of if the room had been charmed to sound just like one of the Slytherin dormitories. He was so conditioned at this point, that the sound made him feel sleepy and almost instantly relaxed.

Lyra hauled her bag in from the doorway and plunked it unceremoniously on the bed.

The bedroom had a small sitting area and Draco stationed himself on the couch to drink his tea while Lyra unpacked her things into the carved wooden armoire across from the foot of the bed.

"So, Draco. I need to tell you that I...I met someone this summer. We're not together, it wasn't even anything, but I wanted you to hear it from me before we practice tomorrow and you get the wrong idea," Lyra said in a nervous rush as she levitated a nightdress into a drawer.

Draco clenched his hand around the mug he was holding and had to remind himself to keep breathing.

"Hey," Lyra said gently, coming over to him. "It was nothing serious. Just someone from my internship that I'll probably never see again..." She started.

"Did you sleep with him?" Draco fired with acid in his voice.

Lyra balked. "What?! No! Draco, I...I'm fourteen. How could you think...no! We got pizza a few times and we kissed."

"So you wanted to tell me before I saw you snogging the life out of some idiot and...hold on...he was from your little art program? Was he a Muggle!?" Draco shot out, trying to keep his voice from quivering in rage.

"It doesn't matter," Lyra said soothingly. "I know there isn't anything going on between you and me but you know that I have...I know that you've seen some stuff in my head...plus nobody but you reads my mind, aside from Severus and I just wanted to explain..." she started rambling uncomfortably.

"Oh it's Severus now, is it?" Draco said with a sneer, standing. "You been snogging him too, Black? Wouldn't surprise me at this point. Bloody muggles, that's disgusting. Gods, you Americans are an interesting lot," he spat with venom.

Lyra froze. There he is. The bully. She'd seen him point it at others in his memories, but he'd never really turned it on her this way before. It was terrible. He was terrible. She had to get him away from her before he could damage their friendship any further.

"I'd like you to leave now, Draco," Lyra said numbly.

"Gladly," he replied darkly and walked out.

* * *

"Ladies first, Black." Draco said tauntingly as he pitched himself into the high backed chair they used for practice. They'd left things on bad terms the night before and Lyra had expected him not to show up, or to leave altogether, but he was right on time and appeared to be in quite a good mood.

"Miss Black, I'd like you to try to bypass present emotion and go straight to memory. You will be timed. Begin," Snape said in instruction, turning over an hourglass to mark her progress.

Lyra nodded then turned, narrowing her eyes at at Draco and drawing her wand. She leveled it at his face and entered his mind tentatively, bracing herself for the unkindness of this thoughts. That she was disgusting, that he thought she was a skank. That any feeling he'd had for her evaporated when she had the audacity to...what? Be a kid? Go on a date? Kiss a Nomaj? _Screw him_ , she told herself and dove hard for the first wall she saw, crashing into it with her magic like a wave battering a cliff.

She thunked into it much easier than she'd expected. She furrowed her brow. Draco was an excellent occlumens. He was up to something, this was deliberate.

Lyra heard a noise in the memory she'd fallen into. A breathy, airy noise. A noise that had definitely been made by a woman.

She slammed her eyes shut. _You son of a bitch_ , she said to him internally.

She opened her eyes with hesitation and her stomach buckled painfully at what she saw. Draco and some girl all over each other on a sofa. He was kissing along her neck and she was putting on an excellent show, demonstrating how much she was enjoying his work. He pulled back and muttered something to her with a devious smirk. She hesitated for a moment then brought her hands to her blouse and started undoing the buttons while he watched with interest.

Lyra turned away from the image and ran. She hurled herself into the walls surrounding the memory and tried to escape back out into the more neutral field of his emotions but found that he was blocking her egress. He was trying to trap her in a vision of him with someone else. It was such a cruel thing to do. She was stunned.

She severed the connection abruptly and abandoned his mind altogether. Part of her hoped she wouldn't have the stones to look him in the face, but her innate stubbornness wouldn't allow her to back down. She stared at him straight on.

He was panting in the chair, with a smug smile playing at his lips. "I win," he taunted.

Lyra lowered her wand and the angry blush that had painted her cheeks drained down her face, paling her to white. "Congratulations," she whispered, looking at him with heartbroken disappointment.

Draco's smirk disappeared.

Snape cleared his throat. "Eleven seconds. Did you access his memories?"

Lyra didn't hear him.

"Miss Black?"

She jumped and looked away from Draco.

"I did," she confirmed quietly.

Snape nodded. "And?" He questioned.

Lyra hesitated. Her instinct was to protect Draco as she'd done in the past, but she was too upset and too confused to come up with a convincing lie. "Making out with a girl. Shortish brown hair. Piggy little nose," Lyra said, willing the emotion out of her voice.

Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco and coughed awkwardly. "I see. Mr. Malfoy, get up. Your task is the same," Snape said to the younger wizard with an edge of distaste in his voice.

Lyra inhaled warily. Draco had just dealt her a huge emotional blow, she knew her occlemency would be garbage. _Did it matter? Let him see,_ she said to herself.

She trudged over to the chair and switched places with him.

Her face was completely devoid of emotion. Draco had never seen her look like that before.

"Do you need a minute, Puk?" He offered in a conciliatory, almost gentle tone.

"No. I'm ready," she replied plainly.

Draco pointed his wand at her and entered her mind.

 _The truth is a weapon._

He furrowed his brow at her internal words and found himself disoriented by a deafening silence. She was numb.

Draco frowned. He'd seen her mind dozens of times, the only mind he knew better than hers was his own, and even that depended on the day. He'd seen her angry at him, he'd seen her annoyed with him, but he'd never seen this.

Her emotions started trickling in at first but then washed over him in a powerful deluge. Anger. Rage. Hurt. Confusion.

Lyra thought him ruthless in a way that she had never experienced before and it cut her all the more deeply because she cared about him. Their relationship, whatever it had been, was over. She accepted it and it broke her heart. She would ask Severus to find someone else and hoped Draco would treat his friends better in the future.

Goodbye. She was telling him goodbye.

Draco's heart started racing anxiously. _No_. This isn't what he wanted. He just wanted to get back at her for snogging another guy, a muggle no less. He'd been jealous and angry and he just wanted her to see that she wasn't the only one who could generate interest elsewhere. He wanted her. He missed her everyday. It made him crazy, and now...now he'd pushed her too far.

He dove clumsily at one of her memories with more than his typical force and broke clear through the wall. He saw her laughing sweetly with some idiot Muggle who looked at her with a dopey love-struck grin. He saw her tell him that she enjoyed his company, but it would be impossible for them to continue seeing each other. Idiot Muggle was unhappy. Was it her boarding school? No. Was it him? No. He was 'wonderful,' in Lyra's words. She was gentle but honest. There was someone else. A guy off in Scotland who was a huge pain in the ass, and challenged her sanity with his insufferable brattiness. "I'm just kind of stuck on him and I wouldn't feel like I was doing right by either of you if we...I'm so sorry," Lyra told Idiot Muggle, who wished her well with a kiss on the cheek and lingering hug.

Draco felt ill. He'd hammered her for the appearance of dishonesty when she'd been anything but. She'd been honest with Idiot Muggle and she had been trying to be honest with him too before he exploded. He'd cocked this up badly.

Lyra's mental defenses were brittle from her encounter with his thoughts. He'd basically locked her in a box with a vision of him kissing another girl. He retreated in shame and took a hard left, barreling into another random memory that she'd been considering recently, based on it's upfront location.

Lyra was laying in bed, stiff and sore from the accident. She had one of those odd Muggle communicators affixed to her ear and was enduring a lecture from none other than Professor Snape.

 _"No more joyriding for you. I forbid it," Snape told her._

 _Lyra smiled. "I'll think about it if you can get Draco to stop playing Quidditch. He's got a semi-decent brain. It would be a shame if it got pulverized by one of those flying boulders."_

 _"That would be highly unlikely. They're spelled to avoid the head. Shoulders and arms mostly," he explained, matter of factly._

 _"Oh, good. He'll be just fine without his clavicles," Lyra quipped back._

 _"Draco is not my concern. Draco did not just get nearly get himself killed messing about in a highly flammable, metal cage of death," Snape retorted._

 _"God, it was a cab, not a stunt car. You are being so dramatic right now. What's gotten in to you?" She asked, exasperated._

 _There was an extended pause._

 _"You're my daughter," the wizard replied honestly, in his trademark monotone._

 _Lyra's face fell. "Professor, it's fine. I'm okay. I appreciate the concern," she replied with clear warmth in her voice._

 _"When we're alone, it would be acceptable if you called me Severus," Snape said awkwardly._

 _She widened her eyes in surprise and smiled. "You got it, Severus. You can call me Lyra whenever you want...because that's what my name is," she replied, trying to keep it light. "Will you tell Draco that I'm not coming next week? My letter won't get there in time."_

 _"I will," Snape replied._

Lyra's mind suddenly lit up in an electrical storm of activity and she ejected him from her mind like a firecracker, stunning him senseless. He looked up and Lyra was out of the chair, staring daggers at him.

Draco took a moment to process what he'd seen. He looked back and forth a few times between the black haired professor and his raven haired protege. They were giving him identical glares with the exact same disapproving frown...

"Fucking hell," he stammered.

"Severus," Lyra choked out, two tears running silently down her cheeks. "He knows."

Draco saw Snape's eyes flash dangerously, like lightning on dragon glass.

"Lyra, I need a moment alone with Mr. Malfoy," he said to her without looking up.

She fled the room in tears, without so much as a glance his way, and then they were alone. Just him and his professor...the head of his house, an old friend of his family and, in a surprising turn of events, the father of the witch he loved.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Sorry for the cliffhanger. The next bit is coming out soon. Oh! And I had to update this chapter to reflect that I dated it wrong. This chapter, and the next will take place in August of 1994, not December. Sorry for the mixup!


	11. Chapter 11

**August 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"She's your daughter?" Draco asked, ears still ringing from the force Lyra had used to shove him out of her memories.

Snape eyed him darkly. "She is. Very few people know," he replied flatly.

"Why?" Draco asked.

"Because it is safer for her that they don't," he answered honestly, drawing his wand.

Draco swallowed hard. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to alter your memories so you forget what you saw," he said, almost sounding bored.

"What?! No! Why?" Draco protested.

"Because, unless I am mistaken, I just watched you torture her for sport. You think I'm going to let you be party to information that could do her actual harm?" He fired, raising an eyebrow.

It was a good point, one Draco didn't have an answer for. He groaned, suddenly realizing an additional something awful; last night he'd accused her of snogging Snape, her own father. Gods, what a bastard he was.

Severus raised his wand.

"Wait," Draco petitioned, hands raised. "I'll let you take whatever you want, just let me talk to her first."

"Why would I do that?" Snape questioned, annoyed.

"Because I just tortured her for sport!" Draco boomed, letting his voice break. He looked away to hide the emotion on his face. "Please," he begged. "Let me go after her. I'll come right back, I swear it."

The older wizard frowned. Sincerity and vulnerability didn't suit Malfoy. They hung off him like an ill-fitting suit. It was uncomfortable, like watching a Ravenclaw fail a quiz. He chanced a look into the young wizard's mind organically, without his wand. He saw fear, sadness, regret. He also saw that, despite Malfoy's best efforts, he had fallen in love with his daughter and would do anything to protect her. _That, I could use_ , Severus thought to himself.

"Fine. You have twenty minutes," he said noncommittally.

The blonde tore across the workroom and out the door.

* * *

He flew down the passageway calling her name. He expected he would have to search for her, but caught up with her rather quickly.

She was walking slowly back to her room, seemingly in a daze.

He grabbed her arm gently to turn her to him. Her face was flushed and streaked with tears.

"Lyra," he breathed. "I..." he began, but stopped when he realized that he had no idea what to say. He'd done so much wrong.

She looked up at him and started sobbing. "Please don't do anything to Severus. He's a jerk but he's a good person. I'm begging you. If you ever cared about me even the smallest amount..."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "What?"

"Please...please don't tell your father," Lyra pleaded, voice trembling from impending sobs.

"Shhh...no no no," he soothed quietly, grabbing her by both shoulders and drawing her closer to him. "I'm not going to tell anybody anything, sweetheart. It's alright."

Lyra regarded him as if he were a stranger. A dangerous one. She didn't believe him. Draco sighed. _Serves you right, you wanker_ , he told himself.

He bent towards her, so their foreheads were nearly touching, and breathed in the scent of cool rain. He had to fix this. "If nothing else, understand that I have nothing to gain by telling your secret and everything to lose," he muttered softly to her, putting it in Slytherin terms. Something she would expect from him.

Lyra frowned at him as more tears slipped down her pretty face. "What are you talking about? Why are you..."

He cut her off by pushing her gently into the stone wall behind her and pressing his lips to hers.

Lyra gasped and rushed her hands to his chest to push him away. His kiss was gentle but insistent. _God, it was perfect_ , she thought to herself. She made a sound with her throat that was supposed to be a protest noise, but came out more like a purr. Lyra felt his warm tongue swipe her bottom lip and the pleasant shock of it gave her enough clarity to do what needed to be done. She shoved him. Hard.

He stumbled back a few steps, thoughts fogged by the sweetness of her mouth.

"What the hell are you doing?! You have a girlfriend!" Lyra accused.

Draco cocked his head to the side. "Do not! That is...unless you're interested," he quipped, taking a step back towards her.

Lyra made a confused face. "But who..."

"She's nobody," Draco said with a sigh. "We had a bit of fun, but it's nothing. Same as you."

"Does she know that?" Lyra said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco opened his mouth to tell her that Pansy was totally on board with being his snog dummy, but just couldn't get the lie out like usual.

"You can't do that!" Lyra argued, interpreting the meaning of his silence with exact precision.

"Oh, come off it, witch. I told you, she's nobody!" He dismissed.

"She's a person, Draco!" Lyra fired back.

Draco laughed and ran his fingers over his lips which were still buzzing from the kiss.

"It's not funny!" She raged, coming off the wall and stalking towards him.

"You're arguing on behalf of your placeholder, love. Save your crusading for someone who deserves it," he argued.

"I don't give a damn. She deserves the truth," Lyra persisted, lifting her chin to him defiantly.

Draco smiled down at her fondly. "That girl and the rest of the name-chasing hens in my house would scratch out your eyeballs if they knew what you meant to me."

Lyra looked away and tried in vein to keep the blush out of her cheeks. "And what do I mean to you? Aren't I just another placeholder until you marry whichever one of those hens your father tells you to?" She asked sadly.

Draco frowned. "No. You are something they can never touch. Something my father can't control. To me, you are...freedom," he said sincerely, taking both of her hands in his. "You've seen that I don't have a lot of that in my life, and I need you to understand that there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect what little I have."

He released one of her hands to trace his fingers lightly along her jaw. "There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Nothing. On my life, nobody will ever hear from me whose daughter you are."

Lyra swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned into his hand. He gently traced her lips with his thumb. She let her eyes fall closed and pressed a soft kiss to the pad of his finger.

That was all the encouragement he needed, he dipped his head and reclaimed her mouth, kissing her slowly this time. She moved hesitantly at first but then opened to him like a flower, taking his top lip between hers and sucking lightly. She tasted sharp like mint, or eucalyptus and she was bloody delicious. He steered her back into the stone wall so he could press their bodies together.

Lyra was trapped in between the coolness of the wall behind her and the warmth of Draco in front of her. The contrast, in addition to the kiss, was dizzying and incredible. She put her hands on his hips and let him crowd into her, surrounding her in the smell of sandalwood and snow. Her favorite.

She wasn't exactly sure how long they had been at it, but when Draco reluctantly pulled away from her, his lips were swollen and his hair had been handsomely mussed by her fingers.

She leaned into him, breathlessly. "Why did you stop?" She questioned, pouting.

Draco smiled and gave her a quick peck. "Because I told Snape that I would be back in twenty minutes so he can erase my memory," he admitted, tucking a wayward piece of her black hair behind her ear.

"What?!" Lyra exclaimed. "No! He can't!"

"It's alright, sweetheart. If it keeps you safer, I'm all for it. Plus, this way, I get to have our first kiss again in say...half an hour?" He suggested, elevating his eyebrows deviously.

Lyra tried not to smile, but she couldn't help herself. She tilted her head up and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I don't want you to forget. I'll come back with you. Let me talk to him."

"If you like," he replied taking her by the hand and leading her back down the hallway while he straightened his hair.

* * *

"Why?" Snape pressed.

"Because I trust him," she answered honestly.

"I don't," he retorted.

"I think you do. At least about this," Lyra pushed back.

Severus frowned mightily. "No."

Draco watched the two of them argue and couldn't believe how it had never occurred to him before that they were related.

"Please. He's my friend, plus, he reads my mind all the time. He could always just find out again, and then you'll have to obliviate him over and over and he might end up stupid or something...I mean more than normal," she said to her father, very seriously.

"Oy! I am right here!" Draco protested.

Snape quirked his lips in amusement.

"I want you to take the vow," he said to Draco.

Lyra gasped. Draco balked.

"Don't you think that's a bit much, professor?" Draco questioned, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, plus I don't even know how to cast it for you," Lyra added.

"I'm not going to take it. You two are," the older wizard replied.

Lyra looked at Draco and shook her head. "No. I trust you, and even if you did tell, I wouldn't want you to die."

"I'll do it," he said to Snape resolutely.

Lyra marched up to him. "Did you not just hear me?! I don't want you to do this," she said to him gently.

Draco opened his mouth to reassure her, but Severus cut him off.

"The choice is the vow or I obliviate him," he said to Lyra.

"Or you could stop being so paranoid and just trust me," she offered.

Draco was gobsmacked. Nobody talked like that to Snape.

"And why does any of this matter? What terrible consequences would come about if people knew?" Lyra questioned, turning to face him.

"Well, if he tells his father, you'll almost certainly be out a legilimency partner," Snape reasoned.

"But he won't! And anyway, the guy can't be that bad!" Lyra argued, in defense of Lucius Malfoy of all people. She despised him from what she'd seen in Draco's thoughts but was hopeful that maybe even he had a decent side. Severus did. Anything was possible.

Snape and Draco locked eyes.

Lyra looked back and forth between the two of them. "Seriously?"

"Let me do it, Black. It's not a big deal," he responded.

"Draco. Yes it is," she countered.

It was a bit of a big deal, Draco knew that. He also knew that, as soon as Snape had clarified that it would be with her, he desperately wanted to do it. He wasn't stupid. He could never be with Lyra openly. His family and the rigid social rules that governed his class would never allow such a thing and he would be an outcast if he defied them. Nevertheless, he wanted to have something, anything that tied them together. Just them. Something unbreakable.

"It's...incentive. To keep my word," he countered, trying to keep it light.

"No way. No secret is worth your life. That's insane!" Lyra fired back.

"If the two of you can't make a decision..." Severus began, began drawing his wand.

"Just wait!" Lyra stuttered out nervously, stepping in between Draco and her father. "It's not right, to put us in this position. We're kids!"

"You're irresponsible and flippant, a little gravity might do both of you some good," Snape reasoned.

"And your evidence for that is what?" she countered, taking the argument to him. "You see me when? Three times a year to hammer me with advanced magic when I'm supposed to be on vacation. What about the rest of the time? Are you watching me every second? Do you know that I am the top of my class and I'm taking fourth year classes? And Draco, you're his instructor and the head of his house. Where does he fall out? Is he some slouch? Does he miss assignments? Not to mention that he comes here willingly to train despite your near constant stream of putdowns to us both. What about that is flippant and irresponsible? Who would we have to be to stop being so disappointing to you?" She raged, waving her hands animatedly.

 _Fucking hell_ , Draco quipped internally.

The older wizard frowned deeply. "If what you're looking for is a pat on the back, I'm afraid you'll be the one disappointed."

Lyra rolled her eyes dismissively. "Ugh. Severus. No. I'm just looking for an inch here."

He regarded his daughter thoughtfully for a moment; her bright hazel eyes, the passionate blush she got in her cheeks when she went on a tear. She made good arguments. That is, from her perspective, with the limited information that she had, they were good. This wasn't about her being trustworthy, or an excellent student, she was both. It wasn't about Malfoy being sincere about Lyra or being at the head of his class as, he too, was both. It was about what was to come. The dark wind that was rising in Britain again was gaining in force and he didn't even want to think about what that could mean. One thing he did know, is that if Voldemort returned, two things would be true as far as Lyra and Draco were concerned. One; she would be the daughter of a spy and Two; Draco's father would be at the heart of the Dark Lord's army. It was dangerous in a way that she couldn't understand.

"No," he stated darkly.

Lyra's face fell. She was crushed. He would never treat her like a real person. Only a punching bag.

Severus heard her thoughts and his chest constricted painfully. She thought he was rejecting her. _Better than the alternative_ , he told himself.

"We'll take the vow," Draco chimed in, rolling up the sleeve of his sweater.

Lyra and Snape stared intensely at each other for a few more seconds before Lyra tore her gaze away and turned to Draco.

She shook her head at him sadly.

"Let me do this," Draco muttered.

Lyra lit up in a bashful blush and resigned with a heavy sigh. She rolled up her sleeve and shot a glare back at Severus who approached them with his wand drawn.

"Take each other by the arm," he instructed. "Look at one another. Malfoy answer my questions honestly as I ask them, the bond will do the rest."

Lyra took his arm and looked up into his silver eyes. They had melted into mercury, like they always did when he was happy about something and he was gazing at her in a way that summoned an army of butterflies to flight inside of her stomach. He gave her a little smile and she was finished. She loved him. She knew it.

Severus cast a shimmering silver ribbon around their hands that bound them together. Lyra felt it hum on her skin and she tightened her grip on Draco reflexively. It felt good. It felt like a big deal. The only other time Lyra saw anything like this done was at a wedding. Lyra swallowed hard and tried to banish the thought from her mind and the embarrassing warmth she felt in her chest at the idea.

"Draco Malfoy, will you swear to conceal, to the best of your ability, the true parentage of the witch before you?"

"Yes."

"Will you vow to utter no words that might give anyone not in this room cause to suspect that she is my daughter?"

"I swear it."

Snape frowned and decided against adding a third line to the vow that would have made it completely iron clad. Instead he concentrated more of his magic into the bond to seal it.

Lyra felt the magic intensify and tingle up to her neck. The glittering strand uniting her and Draco blazed brilliantly before disappearing.

They stood there for a moment, still joined, looking at each other.

The older wizard cleared his throat. "We're done for the day. You are dismissed."

Lyra blinked herself back to the present and took a shaky breath.

"So...dinner?" Draco said, trying to clear the air.

Lyra smirked at him and shook her head. "Yeah. I'll meet you," she told him.

He beamed at her and rolled his sleeve back down before heading out of the room.

Lyra watched him go and sighed as the door shut behind him.

"Tell me you put a loophole in that vow," she said to her father, with her back to him.

"It's an unbreakable vow. It has no loopholes," Snape fired at her with an edge in his voice.

"Bullshit," she rounded on him. "You are far too smart for that. I don't need to know what it is, but I need to know that if he had a wand to his temple, there is a way that he could skirt it and not die."

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. _Gods, she was clever_. He thought a moment about how nice it would be to tell her mother about this visit. It was the only time he could break character and share with someone how immeasurably proud he was of her.

His instinct was to shoot her down. Leave her in the dark. But she had been so hurt by his perceived rejection that it weakened his resolve. "There could be," Snape replied noncommittally.

Lyra let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Thank god," she breathed.

"He'd have to work very hard to find it," he countered.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "I think you underestimate him. I think you underestimate a lot of people," she quipped before turning and walking out of the room, leaving him with his thoughts.

"Not all people," he muttered to himself as he wandered back to his desk.

* * *

"We need to talk," she said breathlessly.

Draco hummed his assent as he trailed his lips slowly down her neck.

Lyra smiled and tipped her head back a fraction to give him greater access to her sensitive skin. "I mean it, Draco," she persisted.

He pressed a defiant kiss to the juncture between her shoulder and neck and reluctantly pulled away. "What about, sweetheart?" He questioned, gazing longingly at her lips.

"About you and me. Rules. Boundaries," she clarified.

Draco frowned. "I don't much care for either," he quipped smoothly.

Lyra rolled her eyes and scooted back into the window seat they shared, putting some much needed space between them.

"I don't want you to be my boyfriend," Lyra blurted out in a rush.

Draco raised his eyebrows. Her admission came as a surprise. Since they took the vow, several days prior, her mind had been awash in affection for him, happiness over being able to touch him freely and a hint of smugness at knowing that he cared about her just as deeply as she did him.

"No, I mean, I do...that is to say that I would if we saw each other all the time. What I mean is that I don't want to have a long distance relationship," she clarified. "I think it's unfair to us both, given that we're so young."

"What are you saying?" He questioned.

"I'm saying that, right now, you're the only person I want to kiss, but you're only the second person I've ever kissed and I only get to see you a few days out of the year," she explained.

Draco watched the blush creep into her ears and paint her cheeks. He had an inkling where she was going with this, but loved how adorable she looked trying to get the uncomfortable words out.

"I'm saying that I have no intention of going out to look for people to date. I want you and I want to focus on school. But, I'm not going to shut myself away either. If I want to dance with someone, I will. If I want to kiss someone...I will," she said honestly. "And I want you to be free to do the same. I don't think you should lead anybody on," she told him with a pointed gaze. "But I don't want you sitting in your room, spending all of your free time writing letters to me when you should be living."

 _Gods, witch. Where did you come from? You are perfect_ , Draco said to her in his mind. "I think that's fair," he said evenly. It was an ideal situation for them, really.

Lyra nodded and then looked down to fidget with the hem of her dress. "Um...if we're here together though in the future and neither one of us is seeing someone..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

She looked up sweetly at him, her eyes melting like warm caramel. "Can I kiss you whenever I want?" She whispered sheepishly.

He advanced on her readily, putting his hands to her waist and pulling him into her. He brought his lips to her forehead and breathed in her scent. "Whenever you want," he whispered before pressing a kiss to her smooth skin.

Lyra smiled and lifted her face to him. "Good," she replied before fitting her mouth to his.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- This was fun but hard to write. It was a challenge for me to give them the latitude in their relationship to see other people, because I just want them to be together, but it's important to the story. Also, if you've read The Pawn, Lyra of course, takes the vow into consideration when she is worried about Draco being in danger at the beginning of the story. She knows, because of the loophole, that it's not impossible that Draco has told someone else.


	12. Chapter 12

**December 1994**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

"You look...wow," he said as she came down the stairs.

Lyra smiled prettily. "Thank you. You clean up pretty good yourself," she replied to her date, taking his arm.

Lyra had almost boycotted the dance all together, but a last minute appeal from her best friend had changed her mind. Plus, she knew Conleth would be a nice neutral choice for a date. Conleth, turned out, was in a similar predicament to Lyra in that he wanted to be there with someone else. His someone else was a sixth year named Elise who he'd been seeing secretly, despite her having a boyfriend.

Lyra had weaseled the information out of him over study hall for their arithmancy class. He, like her, was a year ahead. He was smart, focused and attractive. He was also far too good for that two-faced Elise...who frankly just needed to figure her shit out.

Together, they made their way to the Grand Ballroom, located on the highest floor of the castle. It had been decorated brightly in shades of holiday red and gold. Usually, the Grand Ballroom was sparse in appearance and used as an overflow lecture space. Tonight it looked fantastic.

Lyra spent the evening in a merry gaggle of her friends, dancing with Conleth at appropriate intervals. She did, however, have to reprimand him more than once for staring daggers at Elise and her boyfriend.

"Jealousy is unattractive," she counseled him quietly, as they swayed slowly in time to some saccharine love song that was a touch heavy on the violins.

"What does that even mean?" He countered, smiling down at her fondly.

"I'm not really sure. I heard it in a movie. I just thought it sounded good...I mean, admit it. It sounds good," she retorted.

He pressed his cheek affectionately against her temple. "So good, are you serious? Please, give me more of your sage advice," he mocked.

"Umm...Don't levitate a brick straight up in the air if you feel a sneeze coming on?" She offered.

He laughed. "Can we get out of here?"

Lyra furrowed her brow. "To where?"

"I don't know, take a walk with me. I don't want to watch Elise paw at Rand any longer than I have to. Plus, an early exit seems cool. I mean, admit it. It's cool," he argued.

"So cool, are you serious?" She replied with a smile, picking up on the joke.

Lyra said goodnight to her friends, an endeavor which included having to practically pry Diana off of her and bat away all of her prodding questions.

Conleth helped her into her thick dress cloak and the two of them ventured down the stairs and outside into the gardens, which were covered thickly in glittering snow.

"Lyra?" He asked.

"Conleth," she replied, in mock seriousness.

"Does it bother you, the idea of English being with somebody else right now?" He asked, referring to Draco.

Lyra had been honest with him about everything after he'd come clean about Elise. Her closest friends knew, which was nice and all, but it felt good to talk to somebody who was in a similarly unsatisfying position.

She sighed deeply. "I don't know, I guess I try not to think about it," she answered. "It must be so hard for you to see...to know," she offered sympathetically.

He nodded, looking down at his feet.

"I mean, if he is with someone, it's ok. We've talked about it and, anyway...I'm with someone right now too," she said, checking him with her shoulder.

He smiled. "I just think it's a real pain in the ass to want somebody, have them want you back, and still be lonely."

"It's a huge pain in the ass. You're not wrong," she commiserated.

"Are you?" He asked.

"Am I what?" She questioned.

"Lonely," he clarified softly.

Lyra didn't need to be a legilimens to read his thoughts. He was lonely and hoping for someone to slog through it with. To forget, if only for a second, that there was a person in the world that he wanted to be with but just couldn't touch. Lyra frowned at him and then looked away. It was like looking in the mirror.

She gazed out at the mountains, which were beautiful in the moonlight with their stately hues of craggy black, midnight blue and icy white.

"Everyday," she whispered, a little cloud of breath escaping with her words, indicating that her warming charm was wearing thin.

"Kiss me," Conleth requested in a gentle voice, looking down at her.

She turned to him. His chesnut brown eyes looked black in the dark, but she knew that they were there, looking for shelter, for someone to lean on. "Conleth, I...we were just talking about how much we miss other people. I don't want to use you that way," she argued.

"It's not like that, Lyra. I respect you. You're smart, you're mature and you make me feel better about a shitty situation. One that we're both in. Why can't we just..." he trailed off, clearly feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

Lyra opened her mouth to try to argue further but shut it again uselessly. She looked up at him and shook her head before rushing into his arms and kissing him soundly. He was warm and he smelled like fresh grass.

He reached into her cloak and ran his hands along her sides, down the silky blue fabric of her dress. She sighed into his mouth and wound her fingers tightly into his wild brown hair.

They held on to each other beneath the inky winter sky and let the wind whip around them. Lyra thought it was nice and unbearably romantic. She wished, literally wished, that she could invest herself more fully in the moment.

She couldn't help but let her mind stray, and although she knew she shouldn't, she found herself comparing his kiss to Draco's. He was more aggressive, a touch messy, and a lot of fun. Despite enjoying herself thoroughly, she had to admit that, while he was skilled and considerate, it still fell short. She pondered that fact as she and Conleth made their way back in from the cold. She decided that part of her found it satisfying and another part of her found it incredibly annoying.

* * *

 **December 1994**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Draco, dance with me," Pansy whined, placing her hands on her sequin covered hips.

He pursed his lips. He wanted to tell her to get bent. He wanted to go back to his room. He was tired and painfully bored. He had hoped that Blaise would be around to break up the monotony, but he was occupied by, or rather occupying the mouth of a Beaubattons exchange student in a dark corner somewhere. Draco could hardly blame him, but it meant that he was stuck with Crabbe and Goyle, who'd gone stag, and Pansy, who kept ordering him around as if he were a house elf.

He had tried to be rid of her for more than a month, but she just couldn't or wouldn't take the hint, no matter how badly he treated her. It was odd, and a bit pathetic. Now, he could have put the nail in the coffin by taking another girl to the Yule Ball, but to be honest, he'd forgotten about the damn thing and ended up scrambling first for a date, and second to get his mum to have his dress robes pressed in time.

He'd been so preoccupied with schoolwork and taking Saint Potter down a peg for the Tri-Wizard that everything else seemed to take a back seat. He would still occasionally shove Pansy into a dark broom closet for a snog, when he got truly desperate. Just long enough for her to get him hard with her increasingly adventurous hands and then he'd retreat to his dorm for a wank, dreaming of black hair and golden eyes.

"Draco, are you even listening to me?" She protested again, snatching him from his thoughts.

"Not generally, no," he admitted.

His date flexed her jaw in agitation and made an enraged sort of squeaking noise. He rolled his eyes and stood. Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her indifferently on to the dance floor.

Once among the throng of other couples, Draco took her waist and pulled her to him. He stared over her head while he rotated them in a slow circle to the music. He saw Potter and Weaselby sitting alone at a table, watching miserably as their dates danced with other blokes and their mudblood friend Granger danced with Viktor Krum, of all people. Aside from sparing a thought of concern over Krum's mental state, he thought it was delightful and could barely conceal his grin.

He glanced around the hall at the elaborate decorations. Evergreen trees laden with frost, a light snow falling from the rafters, long hanging swaths of icy blue fabric with dangling icesickles lit from the inside illuminating the room. Lyra would go nuts for it. She would be here in a few weeks. He wished she was here now. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" Pansy asked sweetly, cuddling into his chest. Draco was hit with a wave of discomfort, not just at the unwanted affection, but also at the ruse he was maintaining with the witch in his arms. Lyra had told him to tell her the truth and he'd considered it, but she was just so...convenient. He clicked his tongue in agitation.

"I don't want to be with you," he admitted to her honestly.

Pansy froze and pulled back to look at him. She appeared paler than usual. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't want to be your boyfriend, and I don't think it's right for us to carry on like we've been," he told her quietly.

In an unexpected move, Pansy laughed, like he'd just said something charming and hilarious. She leaned in closely and dropped her voice. "Don't be silly. We're a good match. My father thinks so and so does yours," she whispered as if name dropping their parents was some kind of magic ointment they could spread over the issue.

"I'm serious, Pansy. I'm just not interested in anything more," he pressed.

She narrowed her eyes at him and Draco leaned back a fraction. She was actually kind of terrifying.

"You are being so odd right now. Are you feeling alright?" She questioned with faux sweetness, running a hand down his cheek. She was patronizing him and it made him flaming mad. _Keep it together, man. Don't do anything horrible._ He wanted to step away from her and scream in her face in front of everybody, but he knew better, and he knew that his mother and Lyra both would be furious at him if he did that to a girl, even one like her.

"I am feeling perfectly well," he said through gritted teeth. "I am trying to have an honest conversation with you, woman. Are you incapable?" He questioned, looking down at her.

She scoffed. "After months of dusty broom closets and horrid little couches you suddenly have to discuss this with me here? Now?" she fired in a whisper.

Draco opened his mouth to reply but then stopped short. She had a point. He hadn't even thought about it. Squashing her delusions at a dance, while she was in a ballgown. It was downright cruel and it hadn't even been on his radar. "You're right. That was inconsiderate of me."

Pansy widened her eyes in disbelief. She snuggled back into him, which he allowed, despite the anxiety that washed over him when she did so. If he knew her type, and he did, she was probably laying plans for a dozen or so schemes she could deploy to keep him in line. It didn't matter, he'd wait until the fairy lights came down and the dress robes were packed away and then he'd talk to her again.

He played the gentleman for the rest of the evening to make up for his earlier callousness, and was escorting Pansy back to the Slytherin dormitories when she pulled him forcefully into an unoccupied classroom and aggressively attacked his mouth while her fingers fussed with the white tie at his neck.

Once his shock wore off he grabbed her wrists, dislodging her hands from his clothing and broke the kiss, if you could even call what she'd been doing a kiss...it was more like a feeding frenzy.

"What are you up to?" He accused, releasing her and stepping away.

She sighed, annoyed. "I get it, Draco. You want more. I suppose we are a little young, but it's alright. I figure Blaise started rutting before he could walk," she reasoned. She reached up to the clasp at the neck of her halter gown and released it, letting the sparkling fabric tumble to the ground exposing her breasts and the rest of her body to him. "Come on, then," she said dispassionately, reaching up to her hips to remove her underwear.

"Pansy, stop," he commanded.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her body, inadvertently pushing her tits up attractively. Draco cleared his throat.

"What!" She exclaimed, exasperated. "Don't tell me you're really in to blokes. Even if you are, it makes little difference. You'll have to marry a woman anyhow, to produce an heir."

"Gods, listen to you! Marriage, heirs. We're fourteen. Don't you think it's a bit premature for all that?" He fired.

She shrugged nonchalantly.

He scoffed. "Listen to me, I meant what I said before. I don't want to be with you."

Pancy's facade of indifference started to crack and and an embarrassed blush crept up her chest and colored her face. Tears started gathering in her eyes and Draco felt something uncomfortable, and not entirely unlike pity, well up in his throat. He decided to take a chance and do something that was almost unheard of between Slytherins. He was going to be honest.

"It's not you," he soothed. "Trust me. You look..." he inhaled hard for emphasis. "You look stunning right now, but I'm not going to do this with you. I'm not going to do this to you."

Pansy furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Right, I can't bloody focus with you like this," Draco said removing the cloak of his robes and draping it over her. That bit was true. He was a fourteen year old boy, after all, and she was still a naked girl.

"There's someone else," he admitted, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders.

Pansy's face lit up in rage. "You have a girlfriend?! You swine!"

"No. She...we're not together, but that doesn't mean I'm free either," he admitted. "I thought that maybe we, you and I could work...if we spent enough time together, but I realized awhile back that it's just not the case. I should have told you ages ago, and I...I'm sorry, Pansy. Truly."

She looked at him like he was insane. He was telling the truth, she knew it. Why would he give her that ammunition? She was confused and embarrassed and it was all just far too much. She felt so stupid, so exposed. _Gods, he must just be thinking what a pathetic slag I am, the bastard._ It didn't matter though. She needed this.

"Look, that's all very nice, Malfoy, but I couldn't care less. Ask me to be your girlfriend officially, or I'll tell everybody how small your cock is and that you cried our first time," she said authoritatively.

Draco grinned broadly at her. "And out yourself as having lost your virginity at our age? You're much too clever, and you know that standard is different for girls. I'm not saying it's right, love, I'm just saying it's true."

 _Damn_ , she thought. He had her. She groaned. "Can't you just do this for me?" She pressed.

He frowned. "Why? Why is this so important to you?"

She paused. Every instinct in her body told her to lie. Launch some sarcastic barb at him, along with a few threats and be done with it. Something gave her pause, however. She'd already showed him her body and whatnot and he seemed...safe? So, she bit the inside of her cheek hard and dared to tell him the truth.

"Because I'm not...because I'm not so sure that I'm into blokes, alright? And I need..." She trailed off, unable to continue and unable to look at him.

Draco's pale eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He did not see that coming. He got it though. It made sense. "You need cover," he said softly.

She grimaced at the word but nodded.

Draco cleared his throat and made a quick decision. "Right. And you'll have it," he said definitively.

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

"A date for every dance and the occasional public display of affection to keep everyone guessing," he answered plainly.

Her jaw dropped. "What about your...?" she trailed off.

"What about her? She's not from around here and we're not official. Plus, knowing her, she'd be all bloody for it," he mused.

Pansy tilted her head. "Tell me something about her," she requested, in genuine interest.

Draco pinned her with a hard stare.

"Is she the kind of person your father would approve of?" She asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Is she common?" She asked.

"What does that even mean?" He fired back.

"Is she poor?" She pressed.

He laughed. "Worse...she's American."

Pansy gasped. "Good gods, Draco! I thought I was out there liking girls!"

He smiled. "So, we'll help each other then?"

She smiled back at him prettily. "Yes."

He bent down and picked up her gown from the floor, handing it to her before politely turning his back so she could get dressed. They walked back to the common room hand in hand, much to the continued speculation of their classmates.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Thank you to everyone following/favoriting/reviewing! Please keep it coming so I can make this a better story! -MM


	13. Chapter 13

**Christmas Day 1994**  
 **Wizarding London, England**

Lyra dragged her bag through the door of the Leaky Cauldron and scanned the room for Professor Trelawney's unruly hair. She'd written prior to her arrival insisting that she could find her own cab from the airport to the pub and just meet the older woman there.

She spotted her in a raucous bunch of witches and wizards drinking ale near a blazing hearth. She smiled and walked over.

"Hello Professor! Merry Christmas!" Lyra said warmly.

The eccentric witch turned and squealed with delight. "Oh, Lyra! There you are, my dear. Happy Christmas, Happy Christmas. I'm so sorry I didn't sense you coming. I'm quite drunk, you see, and it has a tendency to dampen my gift," she said at an incredible volume.

"Oh that's alright! Will we be off to the castle soon?" Lyra asked eagerly. She was dying to see Draco and just wanted to get someplace where she didn't have to lug her suitcase around.

The curly haired woman laughed. "Oh you sweet thing! If I tried to apparate us now, half of you would end up in Stockholm. No, I think we'll have to stay for a while. Would you like some Butterbeer?" She asked.

Lyra smiled politely and nodded.

Professor Trelawney motioned to a barman for the drink before wrapping an arm around her and steering her towards the group of strangers. "Lyra, these are my friends. Friends, this is Lyra. She's an absolute sweetheart and...has recently fallen in love for the first time?" She gasped. "You have!? Lyra! That's wonderful, darling!" She turned back to the gaggle of people and raised her glass. "To Lyra!"

Her friends raised their glasses and happily toasted their congratulations. Lyra didn't think she could blush any harder if she tried.

She was rescued by the arrival of her drink and sat down alone at a table while Professor Trelawney socialized and sobered up...hopefully.

Two hours went by and the professor didn't appear any closer to letting them leave. Lyra was passing the time reading a book she'd brought, but the combination of noise and smoke shook her concentration and gave her a headache. She set the book down and reached into her backpack for her salve but her attention was captured by a flash of platinum hair in the crowd. She glanced up and saw Draco standing about ten feet from her. He was looking around haughtily, as if he were in a dirty barn. His gaze fell on her and he started. She watched as his eyes melted to pure silver and he broke into the most amazing smile. Her heart started to race and she was transfixed by the sight of him.

He walked over and sat down across from her at the small table. "Hello sweetheart," he said softly.

Lyra smiled brilliantly. "Hi," she whispered.

His gaze flickered to her lips and she suddenly had a hard time controlling her breath.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, confused.

"Making my way back to Hogwarts to see you," he replied. "We spent Christmas Eve at our townhouse in London. What are you still doing here? It's getting late."

"My ride is drunk," she answered, rolling her eyes playfully and nodding to Professor Trelawney with her head.

Draco scowled in distaste. "Charming."

Lyra shrugged. "Relax. It's Christmas. And you're here now, so I'm happy."

Draco smiled at her. "I'm here now," he confirmed, letting the warmth of her words spread throughout his body. "How do you typically get to the castle?" He asked.

"Side-along Apparition," she answered miserably. "Makes me sick half the time."

"Sounds awful," he quipped.

"I hate it. It's scary," she grumbled.

Draco nodded. "You're coming with me," he said definitively.

"How are you getting there?" She questioned.

"By train." He leaned in close to her. "Private train," he added with a wicked grin.

Lyra smiled at him fondly. "It's ok, I can wait."

Draco frowned. "You don't want to come with me?"

"No, of course I do. I'm dying to get out of here, but I...it sounds expensive and I don't think I can afford it," she said quietly. "Apparition sucks, but it's free," she said with a sad little shrug.

He balked. "Don't be daft."

"Excuse me?" Lyra replied in genuine confusion.

Draco responded by rising from his seat to talk to Professor Trelawney. Laying the charm on thick, he explained that he would be happy to see Lyra to the castle himself so she could stay. Unsurprisingly, the older witch was thrilled at the prospect of being able to drink the night away with her friends in London.

He strolled back to the table victorious and grabbed Lyra's suitcase. "Up with you, Black. We have a train to catch."

She glanced back and forth between him and Professor Trelawney a few times. "Draco, I'm serious. I can't..." she began.

"If you let that drunk old bat apparate you in her state, you're likely to get ripped in half. That would be most inconvenient for me since I intend to snog the life out of you for the next week or so and would like to start as soon as possible," Draco informed her plainly. "You are coming with me. It's not charity. My motives are entirely selfish."

Lyra lifted her chin to him defiantly. "Like usual," she quipped.

Draco smirked down at her. "Like usual, love," he confirmed, extending his hand to her.

She rolled her eyes at him in annoyance and batted his hand away before standing and following him out of the pub.

* * *

 **Christmas Day 1994  
King's Cross Station  
** **Wizarding London, England**

The train station was all but deserted due to the holiday and Draco led her to a completely secluded platform containing only an engineering car and two passenger cars.

"This is all for you?" She asked, looking at the train in surprise.

"For us," he replied leaning down to kiss her.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. Right on time," an attendant called out to him. "We'll be underway as soon as your father and Mr. Rosier arrive."

Draco pulled back and stepped away from Lyra reluctantly. He was aching to get her alone. "My father's not coming," he replied.

"He owled about thirty minutes ago. He should be here shortly," the attendant informed him before disappearing back inside the coach.

 _Shit_ , Draco thought to himself, turning anxiously to Lyra. "Sweetheart, when my father arrives, it's important that you don't say anything and let me to all the talking."

Lyra scoffed.

Draco grabbed her arm gently. "I know it's a nasty thing to ask, but I told you I would protect you and I intend to do just that. Trust me. Unless you've got a smashing fake accent hidden in there somewhere, keeping mum is the safest bet," he said quietly.

She frowned deeply at him, but nodded.

"Ah. Draco. There you are," a snotty voice came from behind Draco's shoulder. He took a deep breath and clenched his jaw before turning.

"Hello, Father. I wasn't expecting you," Draco said formally.

"Yes, well, Edmund's talked me in to a meeting with some financier in Hogsmede about a real estate opportunity," he said in a disinterested tone.

"Is mother still in town?" Draco asked.

"No, she's already gone back to the manor," he answered shortly. He locked his gray gaze on to Lyra at that moment and narrowed his eyes. "Young lady, this is a private platform. The trains you're looking for certainly aren't here," he said to her, his voice sharpened with a cruel edge.

"Er, she's with me. She's a friend." Draco stammered out nervously.

Lucius Malfoy raised his blonde eyebrows and regarded his son with annoyance.

"Which house are you in, Miss..." Lucius fired at her, assuming she must be from Hogwarts.

"Calderon, Sir. Diana Calderon. I don't attend Hogwarts. I study privately and take intervals with Professor Snape," she trilled sweetly in a high British accent.

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep his jaw from dropping.

Mr. Malfoy unpinched his proud face a bit. "Calderon, you say? Mexican or Spanish?"

Lyra let her face light up as if she'd been impressed by his knowledge of her line. "Mexican, actually."

Mr. Malfoy graced her with a proud smirk. "Horse or Unicorn trade?" He asked.

"Horse, I'm afraid," Lyra answered in mock contrition.

Lucius waived his hand dismissively, "You know, it's not a bad idea if you ask me. You can target a duel market that way," he counseled.

Lyra smiled brightly. "You sound like my grandfather."

"What is his name?" The older wizard inquired.

"Balthazar," she answered.

"Hmm. I've not heard of him, but I have to say, he might be on to something with your education. I swear the standards at Hogwarts get lower with each passing year. Well, anyway, you two take the second car then, and do keep quiet. Mr. Rosier and I have much to discuss.

"Thank you, Sir. Lovely to meet you," Lyra replied graciously.

He gave her a placid nod and walked past them into the head coach.

Lyra retained her fake smile for a moment, but let it fall to annoyance as she turned back to Draco. He was looking at her in absolute shock. Lyra shrugged and idly picked a stray thread off of his heavy black jacket. "In you get, love," she quipped up at him, retaining her accent.

* * *

 **Christmas Day 1994**  
 **Wizarding England**

"It's so pretty," Lyra remarked, leaning her back into Draco's chest as she watched the snowcovered countryside go by from the window of the train.

Draco snorted, bringing his arms around her. "I'm glad you think so. I think it's bloody well bleak," he replied, kissing the top of her head.

"Hmm...I like it," she said, snuggling into him.

They watched the scenery quietly for a few moments before Draco's curiosity got the better of him and he broke the silence.

"How did you come up with all of that rubbish to impress my father?" He asked.

Lyra laughed. "It's not all rubbish, actually. Balthazar Calderon is my grandfather. He's from an oldblood Mexican family that's traded in horses for generations. His brothers are all still involved with it and they're super rich. He gave up his part, along with his inheritance, to marry my grandmother.

"So that's why you're all peasants!? For some girl?" Draco teased, clicking his tongue.

"We're not peasants, you jerk!" Lyra protested. "And anyway, my grandparents are perfect. They would walk through dragonfire for each other," Lyra said fondly. "There's nothing better than that. Not money, not mansions, not diamonds."

"You only say that because you probably don't have any diamonds," he countered smoothly.

"And I don't need any," she quipped back.

Draco shifted behind her and when he brought his arm back around he was holding a little black box. Lyra froze.

"Then I suppose I'd better take these back. Shame really," he said.

She snatched the box and turned to face him. "Well, let's not do anything crazy," she told him very seriously.

He smiled broadly at her. "Go on, then."

Lyra opened it and gasped. They were round stud earrings. Diamonds. Clear and perfect and they flashed with brilliant fire under the lights of the chandelier hanging in the train car. Lyra rotated the box in her hands to heighten their sparkle. "Whoa."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said softly to her, as he watched her study them in awe.

She looked up at him and her eyes melted to warm honey. He loved it when they did that. He loved it even more when he made them do that.

"They're beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you." She snapped the box shut and drew it close to her chest before leaning in to him for a long, slow kiss.

All too soon, Lyra pulled away. "Oh! I have something for you, too. But I feel like it's lame now," she said in a flustered rush.

"I hope it's not more sappy war novels," he said with a mock groan.

She scowled playfully at him and scampered away to her bag. She rummaged around and pulled out a lumpy, oddly shaped item that had been clumsily wrapped in blue paper. She walked back over and held it out to him.

He took it and raised an eyebrow at her.

Lyra sighed. "It's stupid."

"Let me be the judge of that, Puk," he said, tearing into it.

He unwrapped it and turned it around in his hands a few times. He was confused. It was a small statue wearing a tuxedo. It looked like a disheveled goblin and it was incomprehensibly hideous. "What..." he began, unsure how to form the correct question.

Lyra bit her lip and blushed bashfully. "It...it's a pukwudgie," she murmured. "Now, you know what one looks like."

Draco quirked his lips down at the ugly little thing. "And do they normally wear black tie?" He asked.

Lyra laughed. "No, but doesn't he look sharp?"

"His teeth look sharp," Draco conceded, making a face at it.

"Ugh, see! It is stupid," Lyra griped.

He looked up and smiled at her embarrassed face. "Yes it is. But you were right. Now, I indeed know what one looks like," he said with amusement in his voice. "So thank you for that, love. I'm blaming you for the nightmares." He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"Merry Christmas, baby," she whispered up at him, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. She looked back down at the statue in his hands. "So...what are you gonna name him?" She asked with a smile.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Many thanks to Psychosae and all of the brilliant folks who have reviewed this story. It's been fun to write so far and your input means a lot to me. Happy reading! xx


	14. Chapter 14

**December 1994/January 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"That's enough!" She protested, rushing over to Draco who was sweaty and shaking after his failure. She knelt down in front of him and cupped his clammy cheek with her hand. "Hey, you're ok. It's ok," she soothed, hoping to stop his shivering.

"He needs practice," Snape said flatly.

Lyra seethed. "The last time I checked, a corporeal patronus is a little beyond the scope of fourth year students. In fact, it's beyond the scope of seventh year students as well. Maybe you're setting the bar a little high there, chief."

The older wizard sneered at his daughter. "Get him out of here before he throws up all over the floor," he cut out bitterly. _They need to learn this. There's no time,_ he said internally, watching her help him up.

"Sugar will help," He called flatly to their backs as she led Draco from the classroom.

Despite the nice way it had started, this interval had been brutal. Severus introduced them to the concept of wandless legilimency that, turned out, was quite painful and left both of them with splitting headaches half the time. When they weren't practicing, or convalescing from head pain, he had them working on the Patronus Charm, for some reason. It was very advanced magic and was proving a challenge for them both.

Lyra knew Draco wouldn't want to be seen in his present state so she steered him back to her room and pushed him into a seat on the leather couch that sat closest to the fire in the sitting room. She pulled a chocolate frog out from one of the cupboards in her small kitchen are and broke the legs off so it couldn't escape and then she walked back and pushed it into Draco's hands, which were still trembling slightly.

"Eat," she soothed, sitting next to him and running her hand through his hair.

He grumbled something and bit the head off the frog. "He's trying to kill us," he said miserably.

"It's possible," Lyra confirmed.

"We should refuse to go back. It's inhumane," Draco offered, mouth full of chocolate.

Lyra smiled at him. "Remember, YOU can leave whenever you want."

Draco paused his chewing and regarded her seriously. "I'm not going to leave you alone with that nutter."

"You're so brave, baby. Protecting me from Severus. Shielding Pansy from the snake pit," she teased warmly. During one of their legilimency sessions, she'd seen the exchange that had taken place between the two of them after the Yule Ball and, as expected, she was supportive and quite proud of him for coming to her rescue.

"That's right, I am. Saving beautiful women while you flirt and dance and snog yourself stupid," he chirped back.

"Jealous?" She quipped.

"No. I know you think I'm a better kisser, and that's the really important thing here," he replied, referring to Conleth.

"You're also the better flirt. I wonder if you're a better dancer," she mused.

"Can't imagine that I would be right now, love," he replied. "I feel a right mess."

She frowned at him sympathetically, taking his face in both of her hands. She leaned in and kissed him gently, enjoying the taste of chocolate on his lips. "You're cold," she noted, massaging her thumbs into the sensitive skin behind his ears.

He made a noise of satisfaction and pressed into her touch.

She kissed him again and then retreated into her bedroom for a blanket. She returned and encouraged Draco to stretch out on the oversized couch. She cocooned him in the blanket and swooped in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Rest," she told him. She stood and turned to head back into her room to change, but Draco stopped her, wrapping his pale fingers around her wrist. She looked down and furrowed her brow.

"Stay," he requested.

She studied his handsome face for a moment. He looked...vulnerable. She knew that he wouldn't let her see him like that, nor would he ask her to stay if he didn't trust her. Draco was a proud, cagey, misanthropic brat. And his trust meant the world to her. She inhaled a shaky breath but then crawled onto the sofa next to him.

Draco watched the blush creep into her cheeks and he smiled softly. She smiled back. He respected the distance she'd put between them, but reached out and captured one of her hands with his, so he could be connected with her. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her knuckles rhythmically until the action lulled him to sleep.

He fell asleep almost instantly and Lyra was transfixed. She loved being this close to him. He looked so sweet while he slept. After some time, Lyra leaned in to nuzzle her nose along his and finally gave in to the nap herself.

When she awoke, the sun had gone down. She wasn't sure how much time had passed. Draco was still with her, sleeping. At some point, he had wrapped her up in the blanket with him and she had turned her back to his chest. One of his arms was pillowing her head and the other was wrapped loosely around her waist. She could feel his breath moving her hair softly and she couldn't recall a time where she'd felt so warm and content. It was such a simple thing, but it made her entire body buzz with a new flavor of happiness that she intended to savor like a rich dessert. She snuggled deeper into him and drifted back off.

* * *

"Ok. Again," Lyra said doggedly, tensing her belly in anticipation.

Severus had charmed a Boggart to retain the shape of a Dementor as a practice dummy in the hope that it would give them some incentive to perform. He thought it an elegant solution. Lyra, on the other hand, took it as a confirmation that he was, at heart, a total sociopath.

He flipped the trunk open and the black cloaked shape rose out, generating a frigid wind that extinguished all of the nearby candles.

Lyra started to shiver in the cold. She shut her eyes and searched for a memory that made her warm. She summoned images of her and her mother baking in their kitchen. Cocoa with Diana after a walk in the snow. Christmas in front of the fire when Caelum was home. She thought of the evening prior when she was wrapped up with Draco, sleeping warm and safe. She inhaled deeply and raised her wand.

"Expecto Patronum-" She called.

Lyra felt her happy thoughts move through her wand like liquid gold and burst forward. _Open your eyes, Lyra_ , she told herself. _Don't miss this._

She opened her eyes and saw it. Him. Don't ask how she knew it was a him, she just did. Seeing her Patronus for the first time was like having a reunion with an old friend she didn't know she'd been missing.

She had used her magic and her memories to produce a shimmering silver fox that was barreling playfully towards the fake Dementor, causing it to cower back down into the trunk Severus had freed it from.

After a few moments, the fox disappeared and Lyra stood transfixed by what she'd done.

"Wow," she whispered, feeling her magic course in powerful swirls throughout her body.

"Bloody took you long enough," Snape fired, snapping the lid of the trunk shut.

"THAT WAS AMAZING!" Lyra squealed, laughing and bouncing up and down a little.

"Stop your gloating," he chastised.

"I can't!" She chirped.

Snape quirked his lips at her but then narrowed his eyes. "I've a suspicion that you're going to be insufferable for at least the rest of the day."

"Probably," Lyra confirmed brightly.

"Malfoy. Remediation for your continued failure to complete the charm will be to get this smug child out of my sight," he said seriously.

"Yay!" Lyra cheered and bounded happily from the room.

Draco frowned from the sting of Snape's words and looked over to him. "Is she really going to be like that all day?" He asked.

"Most likely. The spell will give her a high for about an hour or so," he explained. "The rest of it, however...is just her," he added pointedly.

Draco sighed. "Brilliant."

Snape made a face that looked dangerously close to amused for a fraction of a second before he tamped it down. "Ask to read her memory of the cast. You can get a feel for what she focused on to be successful. The feeling she latched onto to perform the charm. It may be useful to you in your future attempts," he said.

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks," he said and turned to go after his witch.

* * *

"Do you want to know if I was thinking about you?" Lyra teased, throwing her arms around his neck playfully as they walked together in the frozen woods.

"No," he lied obviously.

Lyra smiled and snuggled into him, setting her chin on his shoulder and stationing her mouth next to his ear. "Of course I was," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, reaching inside her unbuttoned jacked to run his hands down her back. "What about?"

"Sleeping with you," Lyra replied.

Draco balked. "What?"

Lyra exploded in a vibrant blush and buried her face in the fabric of his coat. "No, I mean. I was thinking about yesterday. Taking a nap with you. It was nice, and warm."

"Right," he said, with a raised eyebrow.

Lyra burrowed into him, waiting for her blush to subside.

"Sweetheart?" He asked, squeezing her close.

"Hmm?"

"Do you wank?" He asked.

"WHAT?!" She yelled, her blush returning, hotter than ever.

"Touch yourself. Masturbate. Choose your word," he clarified.

"Baby?!" She exclaimed.

"That's not a no," he countered.

"I...what...I mean...no," she stuttered.

"Well that's too bad. I do. All the time," he said plainly.

"Baby?!" She exclaimed.

"I think about you. How soft your skin is. Your smell. Your voice," he purred into her ear while squeezing her hips with his hands. "You taste like mint."

Lyra exhaled a shaky breath into his shoulder. "Draco, I...please. You're embarrassing me." The heat welling in her belly was becoming unbearable. It almost sent her squirming in his arms.

"I'm sorry, love," he conceded, pressing his cheek to her hair. "What would you like to do?"

Lyra pulled back and looked at him. Her eyes did that melting honey thing that he loved and she pressed up on to her toes so she could place her lips against his, not kissing. Just contact. "Dance with me," she whispered sweetly against his mouth.

He smiled. "Here?" He questioned, referring to the snowy forest.

"Mmm-hmm," she replied with a plafyul smirk.

He put some space between them and took her hand in one of his. "Alright witch, what will it be? Waltz? Foxtrot?" He asked, placing his other hand on her waist and starting to sway her slowly back and forth.

Lyra shifted her hand so it was high on his shoulder and arched her upper body away from him gracefully. _Lovely_ , Draco thought to himself, eyeing the smooth skin of her extended neck.

He started leading her in a slow waltz, a bit confused as to how it would work without music. She followed him with ease, responding artfully to the pressure he exerted on her hand and waist.

Lyra smiled as they executed a turn. "Faster," she whispered.

He sped them up and Lyra tilted her head back, laughing brightly. He increased the pace until Lyra was bubbling with excited laughter. She tripped lightly on a branch and Draco snapped her into his body to keep her upright.

She gasped and relaxed her position, looking up at him. She had snowflakes in her eyelashes and was breathless from their dance. She had never looked so beautiful. In fact, he couldn't recall anything he'd ever seen before in his life looking more beautiful than she did just then. He loved her. He couldn't imagine not loving her.

"What?" She breathed, biting her lip.

He swooped down suddenly and kissed her, causing her to make a little noise of surprise in her throat before she melted into him and rushed her fingers into his hair.

Their kiss started sweetly but after a few minutes evolved into something desperate and wild. He backed her up against a tree and started working down her throat, marking her skin.

Lyra could scarcely process how good his mouth felt against her neck. She moaned breathily and leaned into him. He responded by pressing his body into hers, leading with his hips. He wanted her. She could feel it. Her arousal wasn't as apparent as his, but she wanted him too. Something between them was building and she wasn't sure how much longer she could go without losing her mind. The things she thought about when they were together like this...the things she thought when she was alone and thinking about him. They were growing ever more indecent by the day and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He made her feel...everything. He made her want...everything.

 _Keep it together, damn it_ , she told herself as she pulled his mouth off her neck so she could kiss him again.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Kind of a rush job this week, but I really wanted to get this out ASAP for all of you. This was a fun one and we'll be seeing the tension between them start to build from here. Thanks and happy reading! -MM


	15. Chapter 15

**February 1995**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra was having a shit day. She had a cold and a potions midterm. She was uncertain which one of those things was the greater inconvenience to her at the moment.

"Hey Lyra? Do you know the accelerant for number four on the review?" A disembodied voice asked her.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head from the back of the couch she was resting on. "Hmm? Oh...uh, give me a sec," she answered, reaching to the side to rifle through her notes. "Verbena," she said, reading her sheet.

"Thanks!" The voice responded.

"No problem," she called back, letting her head thunk gracelessly back onto the couch. She had that terrible spacey feeling of being light-headed while simultaneously feeling like her temples were in a vice.

"Lyra?" Yet another voice called to her.

She made a dissatisfied grumble noise.

"LYRA!"

"WHAT?!" She roared, annoyed.

"For you, you grumpy buttface," Diana chided, dropping a letter into her lap.

"Oh. Sorry, dude," Lyra conceded.

"You're such a baby when you get sick," her friend griped.

"True," Lyra confirmed with a smirk. She looked down at the letter and her smirk became a full on grin. Draco. She tore into the letter eagerly.

 **Puk,**  
 **I trust your midterms are going well. Ours begin next week and I feel a cold coming on. Gods help Crabbe and Goyle if I get sick during exams, I'll be a right proper nightmare. As the bleeding heart in our relationship, I encourage you to pray for them.**  
 **Father wants to drag me off to Romania for our spring recess and won't take no for an answer. I've bartered him down to five days and should be back for the final bit of your visit. Were it up to me I would happily pass the entire week with you getting slaughtered by our favourite potions master. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I miss you.**  
 **Yours,**  
 **DM**

Lyra frowned at his words. Romania? She was not looking forward to spending the entire week with Severus without Draco there to distract her from his moodiness. Not that Draco wasn't moody, he was, but Lyra had an affectionate softspot for his particular moodiness. She sighed heavily. Today was just not her day.

"Hey, Lyra! Do you know the answer to number eleven?"

 _Oh for fuck's sake._ She rolled her eyes and reached for her notes.

* * *

 **February 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Draco, could I talk to you?" Pansy asked.

"You may. I just need to finish disemboweling this incompetent moron here for a moment and I will be right with you," Draco replied plainly to her before turning back to Goyle and letting the sneer return to his face. His friend, in a rare display of sense, recoiled from him nervously.

"Draco, please. It's important," Pansy persisted.

Draco unleashed his scowl on her for a moment but let it drop when she arched an anxious eyebrow at him.

He clenched his jaw and turned back to Goyle, who wasn't looking nearly as contrite as he should have been, in his opinion. Draco pointed an angry finger straight in the boy's face. "You and I aren't through yet, you tosser. I'll be back. Wait here," he commanded.

He grabbed Pansy by the hand and led her from the Slytherin common room into a storage cupboard down the hall from the potions classroom.

"Alright, love. Be quick about it," he said, pulling the door shut.

Pansy looked at him, utterly annoyed. "Are you...ok?" She asked tentatively.

Draco blinked hard and felt the anger pulsing in his belly, the tempo artfully matched to the throbbing in his congested head. "You dragged me away from a perfectly good Goyle thumping to ask me if I'm ok?" He said to her darkly.

Pansy drew a nervous breath but continued. "You are being nasty...even for you. Something is the matter. Tell me."

Draco's pupils dilated in rage and he opened his mouth to bellow at her but she cut him off.

"Is it your girl? The American?" She asked in what seemed oddly close to genuine concern.

He scoffed. "No," he lied.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him.

"Careful witch," he cautioned.

She shoved a letter into his chest without ceremony. "From America," she twittered knowingly. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Get it together before people start talking...and take a bloody fever potion, won't you? You look like shit," she said, looking him over before turning on her heel and walking out of the tiny room.

Draco quirked his lips at her in annoyance but then diverted his attention to the envelope in his hands. He ripped it open.

 **Draco,**  
 **I'm sick right now during midterms, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody, even you. I hope you feel better.**  
 **I'm so sad that you won't be there in April, but Romania should be fun. Tell me if you meet any vampires.**  
 **My head hurts and I wish you were here, or I was there. It doesn't really matter. I miss you all the time.**  
 **Love,**  
 **Lyra**  
 **P.S. - My most solemn prayers are with Crabbe and Goyle during these dark days.**  
 **P.P.S. - Has it ever occurred to you that you could always just be nice?  
P.P.P.S. - Be nice, baby.**

He smiled at her closing line and refolded the letter. His witch missed him all the time and seemed just as put out as he was that they'd hardly see each other in the spring. It was enough for now. He walked out of the cupboard feeling much better than he did going in and ventured out in search of some sorely needed potions for his cold.

In concurrent news, Pansy Parkinson became the hero of the day among the beleaguered 4th year Slytherins for hauling Malfoy off into a closet somewhere and snogging him into a sunnier mood. Goyle, in particular, was so touched that he bought her an absurdly large arrangement of flowers to show his thanks.

* * *

 **March 1995**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra pulled out the contents of her little box at the owlery and frowned. She didn't need to open the package to know what it was. It was a book. A heavy-ass book. The spiky scrawl on the brown paper wrapping telegraphed 'monotone seriousness' in a way that only Severus could achieve. Lyra sighed and opened it for her assignment. She pulled out a small note, affixed to the volume on the Art of Wandless Legilimency.

 **Lyra,**  
 **Read this in its entirety. Pay particular attention to the section on principles of obscuration for the practice of organic legilimency.**  
 **I suggest you invest in some headache potions prior to your visit and have them on hand.**  
 **I will meet you personally at the Leaky Cauldron and will accompany you from there.**  
 **Best,**  
 **Severus Snape**

Lyra groaned and leaned her back against the wooden wall of the owlery. _Nooooooo, come on_ , she thought. "This is gonna suck," she muttered to herself.


	16. Chapter 16

**April 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

"Get your coat. We're going into Hogsmeade," Severus said abruptly as Lyra poured over a scroll on countercurses.

Lyra looked up and furrowed her brow. "Now?"

He looked down at her and raised a black eyebrow. "You have ten minutes. Meet me at the gate," he replied before turning his back on her and exiting the room.

Lyra looked out the library window and frowned at the rain.

She met him as instructed and the two of them made their way to the village on foot. In the rain...and the wind. Scotland at it's most Scottish, really.

Lyra didn't mind the rain generally, but she'd been in a sour mood this entire interval because of Draco's absence and the dreary skies certainly didn't help her melancholy. The additional irritant this trip was Severus, but not in his typical way. Usually, it was his academic rigor that put a thorn in her side, but this time it was his increased presence and pestering attempts at what could best be described as dry small talk. It was unsettling to her.

"Does the Ilvermorny School offer a class in advanced herbology?" Snape asked as they meandered down a cobbly road that led them from the castle.

"I'm not sure. Herbology isn't really my kind of thing," she replied.

"Hmm. It's important, especially if you care to seek any advanced training in potions. Fellowships and such," he explained.

"Uh, yeah. I don't think that's really in the cards for me," she quipped with a snort.

"Why not? It's a stable career path. Well paid. Safe," he countered.

Well, that depends on the potions master. You know, mine back home...let's just say it's a good day when he hasn't singed off both eyebrows," she fired.

He quirked his lips in amusement. "He sounds like a damned fool."

Lyra smiled. "Maybe. You're much better, but he's much nicer. And he adores me, so you won't hear me dogging on him."

"And does that matter a great deal to you, Lyra? Being adored?" He questioned, with an edge.

"Oh my god, Severus. No. It matters to me in the exact same way that it matters to most normal people, get a grip," she replied indignantly. "What matters most to you, I wonder? Making sure your only child has a crippling lack of self esteem? If that is the case, I can assure you that you're doing a hell of a job."

Severus frowned deeply. "That's awfully presumptuous of you."

"Well, I'm just reading the signs. You have all the subtlety of a brass band when it comes to your thinly veiled contempt," she noted.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mean that, that's all quite clear. I mean the part where you just casually assume that you're my only child."

Lyra stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed him by the arm. "WHAT!?"

He smirked at her. "To the best of my knowledge, you are my only child, but what little evidence you used to make your assertion!" He reprimanded her in his snobbiest voice. "Needless to say, I'm unimpressed."

Lyra groaned dramatically and stomped down the lane ahead of him mumbling casual obscenities under her breath. He followed behind her looking as close to tickled as his face was physically capable...which was really not very much at all...but he nevertheless found it very funny.

* * *

 **April 1995**  
 **Outside of Bistrita, Romania**

Draco sat inside the small cabin, half listening to his father bribe a local official to falsify some documents that would allow the safe passage of one of their units out of the country and into Belarus.

"Clearly we'll need the British patents as well. There's a research facility outside of Focasani in Maldova. Ministry affiliated," Lucius Malfoy explained in his silver voice.

"Yes, I know it," the stubby official replied in heavily accented English.

Draco watched the rain plaster the thick fern brush to the forest floor and wondered if it was raining in Scotland. If it was raining on Lyra.

"Draco, if you would stop your incessant brooding for one second. I want your input on which units are suitable for travel this time of year and in the current weather conditions," his father bit out authoritatively.

Draco fired an annoyed glance at the window and joined his father at the table. He scanned the list of units and then looked down at the map in front of them.

"Clearly the Ukranian Ironbelly would net the highest price, but would be easier to move in winter given the size. The Peruvian would move easy, but we'd be mad to part with it while the market is still on the up. That leaves, based on fetching price and ease of movement, the Swedish Short-Snout and the Fireball," Draco reasoned.

"If you would be willing to meander to a point anytime today. We do have a train to catch this evening," Lucius drolled, unimpressed.

"The Swedish," Draco said definitively.

"Why?" Lucius pressed.

"Aesthetics and proximity. If the client wanted a Fireball, he could get one more easily from one of the farms near Kashi or Bishkek. The Swedish is a more of a novelty. Plus it's blue and our buyer is new money. They always want something blue," he explained.

The elder Malfoy nodded curtly at his son. "Good reasoning on the location. As for the other, I'll just have to take your word for it. You know more commoners than I do," his father said with a sardonic sneer. He called out for one of the handlers. "Let's move the Swedish, then. I think he'll be pleased with it. It's blue, imagine that," Lucius said in mock amazement.

"Draco, go out with Paschka for a scaling. I'm sure your mother would like some new earrings," his father instructed.

Draco swallowed hard. "I would rather not," he protested. He would rather do literally anything else. Despite his name, Draco had no particular fondness for dragons, especially when tasked with helping a grizzled old keeper remove one of their scales, something dragons typically did not appreciate.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now, be off. I'm busy," his father replied absentmindedly, flipping through some paperwork.

* * *

 **April 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Lyra was having trouble sleeping. Draco was supposed to be back sometime tomorrow and she was crawling out of her skin trying to pass the time. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she got up and wandered idly out of her rooms to explore the main floor of the castle. It was beautiful at night. Glowing torches, stone archways, ancient statues. Ilvermorny was a bit more spartan in design, and she liked it that way, but she still had a soft spot for Hogwarts and it's old-world charm.

She was meandering past the entrance to the courtyard when she heard something. It sounded like whispers. She peaked inside the great hall to see if anyone was there, but it was empty. She ventured down one of the large passageways, past several lecturing halls and could swear she heard her name being called from a distance. She frowned and went in the other direction. She wasn't an idiot, after all.

Eventually she made her way to the large central staircase. Down for the dungeons and up for the divination tower. She figured, with the full moon and all, the tower would be nice for stargazing, so she went up. She felt the air cool around her which kept her comfortable as she climbed. After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the landing and swept aside the heavy red curtains that served as the entrance to the round room at the top of the tower.

She opted to leave the lights off so she could see the sky more clearly and went over to one of the narrow windows. It was lovely. Clear and bright. She could hear the wind howling around the spire of the tower and saw a bat flit by. She smiled.

"Lyra," a voice whispered behind her.

She whipped around and saw nobody, but she noticed a slight movement in the curtains across from her in the room.

"Who's there?" She called.

"Who's there?" The voice whispered back.

Lyra felt the air around her cool further. She could see her breath. She started to tremble, not from the chill.

"What are you?" Lyra asked the ether, looking around for signs of him or her...or it.

A lone candle on a small table in the center of the room lit abruptly and Lyra gasped.

"Sit," the whisper commanded.

Lyra gulped and tried to hold her voice steady. "I don't want to. I want to leave now," she said clearly.

A hard wooden chair slammed into the back of her legs, knocking her into the seat. She screamed and the chair conveyed her to the table. There was an empty chair across from her and a gazing ball resting on the table.

"Please, you're scaring me," Lyra offered, hoping whatever it was was just clueless and not malevolent.

"Good," an odd male voice spoke at normal volume next to her ear. She snapped her head to the side to catch a glimpse of him but saw only the darkness of the room swallowing the light of the little candle in front of her.

"Who are you?" Lyra yelled angrily.

"I'm so glad you asked," the strange voice came again. It sounded...amused? "Let me show you," it added, followed by a peel of manic laughter. "Don't move though, my dear. If you move, I can't promise that you won't get killed," the voice counseled her darkly. "I do so hate it when that happens."

"What?" Lyra cried, trying to shrink into the chair.

The room exploded in a torrent of noise and movement. Tarot cards, books, crystals and tea cups whipped around the room in a cyclone of intimidating projectiles. Lyra screamed, but the sound of it was lost amid the cacophony of colliding objects and shattered glass. The storm raged for only seconds, but to Lyra, it seemed like years. She was terrified that she would be bludgeoned or stabbed by any number of things rotating rapidly around her body.

Without warning, it stopped. All of it. Lyra sat panting in the chair, shaking and covered in sweat. She was so cold.

The voice returned gently, almost cooing in her ear. "You know what I am," it said.

Lyra shook her head jerkily. "Yes," she whispered, trembling.

"Say it," it purred. She could feel breath against her ear.

Lyra inhaled shakily. "Poltergeist."

She heard its sinister laugh echo off the stone walls of the tower. The gazing ball on the table rolled into her lap and she caught it reflexively. She looked down at it and froze. It wasn't a gazing ball she held in her hands. It was a head. A disembodied head. It opened its eyes. Red. It grinned. Fangs.

It screamed.

Lyra screamed.

She dropped it and fled the room. She started down the stairs as fast as her legs would go, all the while hearing the laughter of the poltergeist fill the air around her. He started hurling things at her, deliberately missing her head by just inches. She shrieked every time. She didn't even realize where she was going. She missed the main floor entirely and raced down towards the dungeons.

The thing pulled back a bit from her when she hit the main hallway that led first to the potions lab and then the Slytherin dorms, but it was still halfheartedly tossing things in her direction. Books, vases, an entire suit of armor.

She saw someone dressed all in black move in the darkened passage at some distance ahead of her. "Severus!" She screamed as she dodged a trophy that the poltergeist lobbed at her.

The figure straightened and started running towards her. She heard a voice call out. "Baron! A little help here!"

"Draco!" She cried, willing her exhausted legs to move faster. Suddenly, a gaunt silver spectre rose out of the floor between her and her wizard. On a normal day, that would have given her pause, but in the moment, she didn't give a damn. She ran right through it and flung herself desperately into Draco's arms.

"PEEVES!" The ghost bellowed. "Stop this nonsense at once!"

Lyra vaguely registered that the laughing and the sound of things hitting the wall had ceased, but she wasn't really paying much attention to anything aside from the frightened pounding of her heart and Draco's warmth.

"I've got you, love. Christ, you're bloody freezing," he breathed into her hair, squeezing her closer while she shivered.

"Baron. Poor thing's scared stiff and cold as ice. This is hardly appropriate," Draco argued over her head. He knew the Baron was pretty much the only person outside of old Dumbledore himself who could get Peeves in line.

The ghost looked back at the young woman quaking with fright. "Peeves! How could you do such a thing? It's monstrous, even for you. Apologize at once!"

Lyra felt pressure on her head. It was...it was a foot. The fucking imp was standing on her head. "Sorry, lass. I was just having a bit o' fun," it said to her in a bumbling brogue.

Lyra burrowed her head into Draco's shoulder. "Please just go away," she pleaded, hoping she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying. The pressure lifted off her head instantly and she huffed in relief.

"If you hurl so much as a butterfly at her ever again, you'll have me to contend with," she heard the ghost say with authority.

Draco pulled a very reluctant Lyra from his chest. Despite her best efforts a few relieved tears had escaped her eyes while he'd been holding her. Draco pouted sympathetically and wiped them away. "Can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" He said, flashing a sweet smile.

Lyra shook her head at him. "No you can't," she told him very seriously, her chin quivering.

She turned her head to the ghost. He was dressed in an old style of what Lyra understood to be aristocratic clothing. He was covered in spots of blood and wore chains around his shoulders and arms. He was a pretty classic looking British ghost. The kind that made sense to her. The kind she expected to find in the castle, unlike the unusually powerful Poltergeist. "Thank you, Sir," she said meekly, leaning back in to Draco, who pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

The ghost looked over the couple. His expression was unreadable but he inclined his head at her politely. "There there, young lady. You're safe now. If that fool troubles you again you just call out for the Baron, yes? At your service," he said with a little bow.

Lyra blushed and smiled at him, completely smitten.

He cleared his throat and turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, get her someplace warm, will you? There's a good lad," he directed.

Draco put his arm around her and steered her towards the stairs. "Let's get you in front of the fire, sweetheart."

"And Mr. Malfoy," the ghost called.

Draco turned them back. "Sir?"

"You're a very lucky man," he stated plainly.

Draco's eyes widened and he coughed awkwardly. "I...er...yes. Thank you very much." The Baron was typically cagey and standoffish. He would help a Slytherin here and there, but he was never very talkative. His behavior tonight had been downright personable. It was...odd.

Lyra stifled her laugh with momentous effort. "Goodnight, Baron," she said fondly.

"Goodnight, my dear," he replied before disappearing through the floor.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Reading up on Peeves and The Bloody Baron for this chapter was a lot of fun. Check out Pottermore/HP wikia for some awesome snippets. I feel like I should point out that The Baron is the ghost of Slytherin House and also...a murderer. He killed a witch (Helena Ravenclaw) who he was obsessed with because she didn't love him and refused to return to Scotland with him. He went mad afterwards and killed himself. As a ghost, he wears chains because of his guilt over his crime. In my AU, he's a reclusive ghost with a soft spot for Slytherins and damsels in distress. He is also one of only a few people who can put Peeves in his place. He connects with Lyra in this instance because she's a young lady being tortured by Peeves and is clearly involved with one of his Slytherins. He tells Draco he's a lucky man because, unlike himself, Draco has found someone who seems to love him in return. His past is not known to the students and he refuses to discuss his history when asked.

Please fav/follow/review and happy reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**April 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco steered his shaken witch back to her rooms and by the time he got her seated in front of the fire, she was shivering uncontrollably.

He ventured into her bedroom and grabbed the thick green quilt off of her bed. He got momentarily distracted by the sight of a lacy piece of Lyra's underwear peaking out from a drawer in the wooden armiore and had to remind himself that she was waiting for him in the other room.

He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her bundled form.

"Maybe you should have a bath, love," he offered, rubbing his hand back and forth down her arm to generate friction.

She leaned in to him and shook her head. "I just want to be with you," she sighed.

"Well, I could always get in with you," He noted deviously.

Lyra snorted, although the suggestion did give her an idea. She wiggled away from him a bit and shrugged the blanket off her shoulders. She rid herself of the thin bathrobe she was wearing over her gray nightdress before turning back to him.

Draco eyed her newly exposed skin with heated interest. Her shoulders were left bare and the dress scooped low on her chest and stopped at her knee. He would fully admit that American women had better sleepwear than the striped pants and baggy nightshirts he saw on British girls.

"Take your jacket off," Lyra muttered to him.

Since he'd been traveling all day with his father, he was in a three piece, all black. He shrugged off his outer layer and turned to her with an eyebrow raised in question.

She bit her lip and pulled him in by the collar of his dress shirt. She kissed him softly, tracing her cold nose along his. "Lay down with me," she whispered. She retreated from him slightly and shoved the blanket on to the floor as if it had caused her some kind of mortal offense. She scooted back and laid down, taking up an impressive amount of couch for a person her size.

Draco swallowed hard. He understood. She wanted...he...okay. _In an amazing turn of events...Thank you, Peeves_ , he remarked internally. Draco twisted his body back and placed a hand on the outside of her calf that was closet to the back of the couch. He paused a moment to look at her and give her the chance to change her mind. He knew he should ask for confirmation but couldn't bring himself to form the words. He wanted this so badly.

"Please," Lyra said, reaching her hands out to him. "Keep me warm."

Well he certainly wasn't going to say no to that. He leaned down to crawl slowly up her body.

As soon as she could reach, she threaded her fingers into the hair behind his ears and encouraged him to continue as he settled down over her. Chest to chest, hips to hips.

Lyra parted her knees to make room for him. The stiff cloth of Draco's trousers tickled the bare skin of her legs and the sensation lit up her whole body. She pulled him down for a kiss and smoothed her hands down the sides of his neck to the buttons of his shirt. She started undoing them just as her tongue shot out to caress his top lip.

Draco broke the kiss and looked at her. Her eyes were like liquid amber and she was panting slightly. His head was fuzzy with lust but he wanted to make sure she was in control of herself and not just coming off the adrenaline of her fright. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?" He questioned breathlessly.

"I want to be closer to you," she answered honestly. "I'm so cold. Everything else will stay on. Promise," she pleaded.

Draco smiled down at her. "I appreciate you sparing a thought for my modesty, love," he quipped before dropping his head and pressing a kiss to her collarbone, which caused Lyra to gasp and arch into him desperately. _Gods, she is perfect._

Lyra continued working on his buttons and pulled to untuck his shirt from his trousers. After undoing the last button, she peeled the shirt down, starting with his shoulders. He shook it off his wrists with a smirk and tossed in on the ground, leaving him in just an undershirt that was, predictably, black.

He came back to her and buried one hand in her hair while the other traced down her side as he kissed her wildly.

With many of the layers between them gone, Lyra was amazed at how good it felt to be under him and have her skin warmed by his. It was addictive and she wanted him everywhere.

They went hard after each other for some time, but gradually, Draco felt Lyra's frantic energy begin to fade. Her hands slowed in their exploration of his chest and back. Her kisses paced down from bruising to slow and sweet. He found it all very cute. He pulled back to study her. Her lips were swollen, her hair was a mess and he saw a pretty little line of love bites starting to come in on her neck, with one or two wayward ones blooming on her chest. It made him feel quite smug.

Lyra looked love drunk up at him and tried to swallow a yawn. He smiled.

"Better get some sleep, love," he murmured gently, running a hand through her black hair. It was quite long now. He absolutely adored it.

Lyra shook her head and wrapped her legs tighter around his. It felt so good he had to stifle a groan.

"Don't go," she whispered.

Draco felt his chest warm pleasantly at her words. She made him feel so...needed. In his normal life he felt a lot of things. Respected. Feared. Admired. But nobody had ever made him feel like she did. She made him feel essential. Not in a power struggle sort of way, but in a passionate sort of way. She reached for him sometimes like she was a flower and he was the rain. Like she was lost in the snow and he was a fire in the distance. Whatever it was, it drove him mad and he bloody loved it.

"I'll stay," he reassured her.

She hummed happily and closed her eyes.

Draco took his weight off of her and spooned his body around hers so she was sandwiched in between himself and the back of the couch. He reached an arm back for the quilt and covered them.

Lyra snuggled back into him and sighed. "Nite, baby," she mumbled.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he replied, letting his eyes fall shut.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy. You are wasting my time. If you have no real effort to put forth, it would have been better that you not return at all," Snape cut bitterly at Draco who had collapsed against a bookshelf.

"I...I just...I don't..." Draco began, teeth chattering with cold.

"I have explained it to you in the most simple terms I can think of. Your counterpart mastered the Patronus Charm months ago. You are being lazy and making excuses," the older wizard replied, his voice dripping venom.

"I have a question," Lyra stated flatly, twirling her wand idly in her fingers.

"Of course you do," Snape said in an annoyed tone, turning to her.

"What benefit is there, from an educational standpoint, to berating a student who is struggling to complete a spell where being happy is a requirement?" She asked, pinning him with a hard glare. "How could that possibly contribute to success?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't understand," he replied, tilting his head.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. I have explained it to you in the most simple terms I can think of," she fired, copying his words.

Severus's eyes darkened to pitch. "I don't appreciate your tone, Miss Black."

"I don't appreciate you torturing my friend, Professor Snape," she replied. "Not only because he's my friend, but because your methods make no sense. It's offensive to me, not only as a nice person, but as a smart person as well," she stated with confidence.

Snape walked over to her and towered above her.

She looked up at him defiantly.

"Get out," he breathed.

"So you can punish him because you're mad at me? Not a chance," she shot back.

Snape scowled down at her. "Malfoy. You are dismissed," he boomed, never taking his eyes off Lyra. "Miss Black. You will stay and transcribe brewing components for Wolfsbane Potion until your attitude has improved.

"How much parchment do you have?" Lyra asked sweetly.

"Reams," Severus replied.

"Good," she stated.

Draco left the room on shaky legs while the two of them stared each other down, locked together in their stubbornness.

* * *

Lyra dropped her quill and flexed her hand to release the cramp. She'd been at it for hours and neither she nor Severus had thrown in the towel.

Her stomach growled...or his did. Either way.

Lyra glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past nine. She sighed. It was her last night in Scotland and she very much wanted a little more one on one time with her wizard.

"Having a change of heart, Miss Black?" He asked with a mocking edge.

Lyra cocked her head at him and frowned disapprovingly. "Why do you beat on him so much?" She asked.

Snape leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Honestly?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, honestly. Cloak and dagger is your style, not mine," she fired.

He inclined his head. "A fair point." He sighed. "Mr. Malfoy is failing to live up to his potential. He could be a great wizard if he quit resting on his laurels."

"Draco can be many annoying things, but he is not lazy, Severus."

"He is. He will do exactly what is required of him to be better than most people and keep his father off his back. Beyond that, he does nothing of use. Imagine the things he could accomplish if his goals weren't so self focused? Sadly, I think we'll never know," Snape mused.

Lyra opened her mouth to rebut him, but closed it again. He had a point and she knew it.

"You're in love with him," he stated plainly.

"Does that bother you?" Lyra asked. She knew it would be useless to refute. It was too obvious.

"You're my child. He's the child of a socialite with a wasted intellect and a power hungry elitist with delusions of grandeur. Of course it bothers me," he answered in a bored tone.

"You can't blame Draco for that," she countered.

Snape frowned. For a fourteen year old, his daughter was remarkably nuanced in her reasoning. It was unsettling.

"No, but you can't honestly believe people like that would ever accept someone like you. Draco's course, as they say, was set the moment he was born. That includes the type of people he is allowed to be involved with publicly," he counseled.

Lyra felt like she'd been slapped. "Are you telling me that I'm not good enough for him?"

"Don't be absurd. As a pupil, an intellect and a legilimens, you are worth two of him, but that's not what matters to those people," Snape explained.

Lyra didn't know how to feel about that. He was complimenting her in a way, but also reminding her of her place on the aristocratic pecking order which she, as an American, thought was archaic and stupid.

"They're not _'those'_ people, Severus. They're just...people. People can change their minds," she said, ever the optimist.

"You're young. You have the luxury of believing in that kind of nonsense," he told her. He didn't say it cruelly, or to hurt her. He simply said it because it was true.

"If it bothers you so much, why not separate us?" She asked. He was being uncharacteristically forthcoming. She wanted to take advantage of it and pick his brain.

"Well, if you must know, the only other student I would conceivably pair you with is a magnet for danger. As odd as it may sound, Draco is...the safe option."

"Then why pair me with anybody?" She questioned.

Severus frowned. "You're no match for me and..." He paused.

"And what?" Lyra pressed.

"And, I'm not stupid, I realize that separating you from him at this point would give me more headaches than the current arrangement," he said in annoyance.

"I think you're right about that," she fired back crossing her arms over her chest.

They stared at each other darkly for a few moments before Lyra smiled and Severus revealed the most subtle hint of a smirk.

* * *

"How long did the old goat keep you last night?" Draco asked her while thumbing through a copy of the Daily Prophet.

She yawned and plunked down on the stone bench next to him. "Eleven or so?"

"Gods, Lyra," he clucked, setting his paper aside.

"I don't like seeing you mistreated," she told him seriously.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "I think you like being the hero."

She shrugged. "So what? I got to protect my wizard AND be the hero. I don't see a downside there...other than a hand cramp."

"Oh, I'm yours now?" He said with a smirk.

She smiled. "You are." She wanted so badly to kiss him but felt that on a bench, in the courtyard while she waited for Severus to arrive so they could apparate to London was probably the wrong time. She sighed.

"Will you read me? I...wanted to show you something before I leave," she said.

He looked at her suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Just let me show you," she fired back.

Draco shrugged and stood. He raised his wand and entered her mind.

He wandered into the plain of her emotions and felt the usual. She wanted to kiss him. She was a bit hungry. She thought he looked especially handsome that day...but she thought that every day. He felt her pushing him towards something. When she did this, she was usually pushing him towards an idea, usually an idea for food, but this felt like he was leading her in to a memory.

She hadn't walled it, she'd left it open. When he passed the thin veil into the memory, he saw Lyra in her room. She was wearing a pale blue nightgown and had her long hair down. _Could this be last night?_ S _he looks gorgeous_ , Draco thought to himself.

Lyra walked over from the armiore and laid on the large bed, over the covers. She sighed and bit her lip.

She trailed her hands over her body and let her eyes flutter closed.

Draco swallowed hard.

She slipped one hand underneath the thin fabric of her dress and palmed her breast. The stimulation caused her to tip her head back and a heated little hum escaped her lips.

She traced her other hand down her flank and let her knees fall out to the side. She guided her hand beneath the hem and let it disappear between her legs.

Draco was transfixed. It was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen, and he was a wizard. He'd seen actual unicorns. He fixated his gaze on the muscles of her arm that were flexing to drive the hand she used to pleasure herself.

" _I think about you too, baby,_ " she said in a husky, nearly unrecognizable voice. It was for him. She was talking to him. She pulled her hand off her breast and buried it in her own hair.

Draco shifted his gaze to the peaks of her nipples that were straining against the dress. She was fully covered and the suggestive absence of actually seeing her bare almost made it more sexy. The whole image made his mouth water.

" _Sometimes I pretend that you're kissing my neck. Other times I dream that it's you touching me_ ," she said, giving a little moan at the end.

" _Right now, I'm thinking that you're going to see this tomorrow and I want that. I want you to watch. I want you to know what it looks like, what it sounds like when I...Oh my god..._ " she cut herself off and cried out. Her hips started moving of their own accord in time to her climax.

He was already painfully hard and when he got a whiff of her arousal in the memory, he almost came himself. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that Snape would be along shortly and Draco didn't particularly want to be murdered that day. Thank the gods he was wearing robes.

He watched her come down and studied the lovely flush painting her chest as she panted. She laughed suddenly and covered her face with her clean hand before rolling on to her stomach and bashfully hiding her face in the pillow.

He pulled out of her mind and stared at her. She was panting and flushed, like she had been in the memory, and she was avoiding his eyes.

"Bloody hell. Thanks for that," he said.

Lyra smirked and shrugged, still looking away.

"There you are," Severus said from behind him.

Draco jumped guiltily and Lyra stood from her bench.

"Do you have everything?" The older wizard asked.

"Yes. I'm all set," Lyra confirmed.

"Come along, then," Snape commanded motioning to the center of the courtyard.

Lyra turned to Draco. She wanted to say a million things to him. She wanted him to come along. She wanted him with her in America so she could kiss him everyday.

"Take care, Black," Draco said softly, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear.

"Bye," She whispered, giving him a little smile.

They stared at each other for a moment until Snape grumbled something unintelligible about the time and shoved Lyra's suitcase into her hand.

Draco watched her follow him to the center of the courtyard. She turned back to look at him and they locked eyes for a fraction of a second before she disappeared into a black puff of smoke as Snape apparated them away.

His heart clenched. He missed her already. She'd defended him so bravely yesterday and instead of expecting a favor from him she had turned around and graced him with enough wanking material to last him the entire summer, maybe longer. _Speaking of..._ He turned immediately on his heel and made for his dorm so he could take care of some things.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Big thanks to those who have followed/reviewed. It makes my day! -MM


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note - M rated conversation at the end of the chapter. -MM**

 **June 1995**  
 **Malfoy Manor**  
 **Wiltshire, England**

"Happy Birthday, darling," his mother chirped to him brightly as he walked into the dining room. She rose gracefully from her chair and floated over to him, embracing him and planting affectionate kisses on both of his cheeks.

"Thanks, Mum," he replied, escorting her back to her seat.

"Madge has made all of your favorites and I thought that later we could go into the village and have you fitted for some new suits. What do you think, love?" She asked, levitating a dainty china teapot in his direction.

"That sounds fine," he replied, trying to feign enthusiasm for his mother's sake. "Has father returned from London yet?"

Narcissa's pretty face fell just slightly.

Draco took that as confirmation that he was still out.

"He should be back this evening. I thought we could do presents and whatnot then," his mother answered.

"Right," Draco replied curtly while he preoccupied himself with sugaring his tea.

* * *

"Draco, bid your mother goodnight and meet me in my study. Don't dawdle," his father commanded as he made his way out of the green sitting room.

Draco frowned and turned back to his mother, a questioning look on his face.

"Don't ask me, sweetheart. I haven't the foggiest clue. Maybe he's got you something from town," she quipped hopefully.

He nodded and looked over the cache of gifts in front of him. Several new sets of robes, Dragonscale cufflinks, some new Italian model broom, first edition runic encyclopedia, trip to New Zealand in July, other odd bits from extended family and well-wishers. It was a pretty subdued haul by Malfoy standards. He figured it was likely because it was his fifteenth birthday and his parents were saving the good stuff for his sixteenth or seventeenth, which tended to garner more prestige.

It was painfully obvious to him that his mother had done all of the gift selection on his father's behalf. That didn't bother him, per se, his mother knew him much better. Nevertheless, Draco tired of the charade every birthday, Samhain and Christmas where by his mother would gush about how Lucius had wanted him to have such and such, especially when his father never voiced any such inclination.

Draco was a Slytherin, he understood the utility of deception, but this seemed futile. Perhaps that's why it irked him so much. Draco sought out his father's approval, but he was smart enough to understand when it was genuine and when it was just another fanciful creation of his mum's. Draco hated polite condescension, unless he was the one providing it. It made sense in social functions, but he never understood her need to maintain it at times like this. There was Draco and his mother, there was Lucius and Narcissa, but there was never really Draco and his father.

The elder Malfoy treated him like a pupil, an apprentice, and that's exactly what Draco was. He was being groomed to master the art of maneuvering within pureblood society to keep the family rich and powerful. That was his purpose, it's what he was born for. He couldn't fault his father for that. Lucius hadn't made the rules any more than Draco had.

"Draco? Are you alright?" His mother asked.

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Fine. Thank you for the gifts, mum. They're great," he said, standing and heading out the door to meet his father.

* * *

"Come in," his father beckoned as Draco reached the doorway to the large oaken study.

He inhaled the rich smell of cigar smoke and aged brandy. It smelled like status. Like his father. He was never allowed inside the room as a child. Anytime he playfully wandered in, Lucius would banish him harshly, informing him, in no uncertain terms, that he was a petty nuisance who would surely bring about the destruction of the family with his incessant messing about. The last time Draco had dared attempt it, he was about four years old.

Draco approached the leather chair across from his fathers desk and made to sit down.

"You won't be staying long. I just wanted to give you your gift," Lucius said, not looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

Draco's ears perked as he straightened, resting his hand on top of the chair. "Gift, father?" He asked.

"Yes. It's tradition and whatnot," the older wizard replied in a bored tone, pausing his writing a moment to wave his quill at the corner of the room behind his son.

Draco furrowed his brow and turned. _Holy hell_ , he said to himself. He swallowed audibly and his heart started to pound.

"Happy Birthday, Sir," the young woman said to him, her voice sweetly accented with French. She rose slowly from the couch and walked over. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen and was petite in stature, with curly blonde hair and big chocolate eyes. She had deliciously round hips and large inviting breasts. She was wearing a tantalizing sheer gown that had smartly placed leaves embroidered with silver thread covering her sensitive areas. She was stunning.

She reached him and planted her hands on his chest, lifting up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek in greeting.

They regarded each other in silence for a moment. Draco couldn't think of anything to say.

"She's yours through the weekend," his father said, breaking the tension, or adding to it possibly.

"Father, I..." Draco began, still looking over.

"Yes, she's exquisite, I know," Lucius said with a small smile. "Best use one of the guest rooms so your mother doesn't end up barging in like she does."

Draco blinked hard.

His father stood and came around the desk to them. "I expect you back here on Sunday evening so we can talk all about it and discuss some business. Happy birthday, son," he said, almost warmly as he clapped Draco on the shoulder.

"Right," Draco replied automatically. "Thank you."

He was in a proper daze as he took the young woman by the arm and began to lead her from the room.

"Oh and Miss Nagini," his father began.

She turned back. "Yes, sir?"

"We'll keep our usual appointment for now," he said.

She smiled sweetly. "Of course," she replied with a little curtsy.

Draco schooled his face into a mask of indifference as he processed that he was about to lose his virginity totally on his fathers terms. His coin, his command...and even his whore. _What would Lyra say? Gods, what would he tell her if he...fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?_

* * *

Draco showed his...guest (?) to a lavish visitors suite in the east wing of the manor. It was his father's wing, so his mother would be unlikely to venture there without reason.

The house elves brought in her luggage while she looked around the space.

Draco stood by awkwardly as the elves also brought in some of his things since he would be, you know, spending the night apparently.

It's not that she wasn't beautiful, she was. It's not that, as a fifteen year old boy, he wasn't interested in having sex with a beautiful woman, it's just that he pictured himself having sex with a very particular beautiful woman and didn't want to betray that. If he were being perfectly honest, part of him was interested, part of him was terrified of showing up to his father's study on Sunday without a convincing story to tell and the largest part of him was afraid of hurting Lyra.

"Would you like a bath, Sir?" The woman asked him. Her eyes were like warm cocoa and he could see now that she had a very insightful, almost piercing gaze. _Like Lyra's_ , he thought.

"What?" Draco said, coughing awkwardly.

"A bath," she repeated.

Draco frowned. "Er, no thanks."

The woman nodded and moved on. "A drink, perhaps?" She asked waving her hand at the assortment of decanters on a shelf in the sitting room.

He swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, that'll do," he replied, making his way over to get himself a glass.

"Let me, Sir. Have a seat," she said gently, motioning at the luxe red couch in front of the fire.

"Oh. Uh. Right," he conceded, doing what he was told.

She smiled at him and pulled two glasses from the shelf. "What do you like?" She asked.

"Scotch is fine," he answered. He wasn't actually sure if he liked Scotch, but he did like sounding like he knew what he was talking about and Scotch seemed like a safe bet.

She selected a crystal bottle filled with rich amber liquid and poured two glasses neat. She sauntered over and sat next to him on the couch, handing him his drink.

"Thanks," he replied trying not to stare at her. He took a sip of the alcohol and, with great effort, managed not to choke and embarrass himself. They sat in silence for a few minutes before the girl tried again.

"Would you like to know my name, Sir?" She asked.

Draco balked and his aristocratic training took over. "Yes, of course. Forgive me. I'm Draco Malfoy and it's a pleasure to meet you Miss..." he trailed off, extending his hand to her, letting her introduce herself.

"Nagini, Sir. I hope you'll call me Olivia," she said sweetly, taking his hand, not really shaking it, just holding it.

 _Bloody hell_. He'd missed it before. She was a Nagini woman. The House of Nagini was a network of elite gentleman's clubs, brimming with elusive and skilled escorts. He'd heard about them word-of-mouth through his Slytherin classmates. The Houses tended to attract the rich, powerful and moneyed, which meant the fathers of all of his housemates, his own father included. That is to say he'd always figured, but now it was certain. The old man had set him up quite nicely, actually. Or, that's what he would have thought to himself if he weren't so busy being terrified.

"Right," he replied, taking his hand back. "Let's dispense with all the 'sir' business if you don't mind. Makes me uncomfortable. Call me Draco," he quipped, feeling a bit more free to speak now that introductions had been made.

She smiled again. "Do I make you nervous, Draco?" She asked, leaning in and putting her small hand high on his thigh.

Draco twitched and quickly got to his feet. "No. No, I'd just like to finish my drink before you start pawing at me," he deflected.

The pretty blonde laughed. It was a light, musical sound. "Very well. Come back and sit. I promise to keep my hands to myself...until you ask me not to," she said with a cocky raise of her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

To his surprise, Draco laughed. He settled himself back on the couch next to her.

"Can you tell me about what you like, so I know how to please you best?" She asked, hoping to encourage him to speak.

"Like?" He replied, feeling a blush creep up his throat.

"Well...yes. What kind of sex do you like? What kind of foreplay?" She asked earnestly.

He coughed. "Uh...well, just the regular stuff I suppose." _How the hell was he supposed to answer that?_

She cocked her head to the side in confusion but then blinked hard in realization and nodded as if she was digesting his response.

"Do you prefer to be dominant or submissive?" She asked, hoping to guide him into letting her run the show so she wouldn't have to suffer two nights with a frightened fifteen year old on top of her fumbling for an entrance.

He was certain that his eyeballs were blushing by this point, but he endeavored to actually think about her question, which inevitably got him thinking about Lyra. How he liked being above her, covering her with kisses, but also how he adored when she would shove him up against a wall and run her hands through his hair feverishly. "Both, I guess," he answered.

Olivia smiled. An honest answer, and a thoughtful one at that. Her little virgin might have more to him than she thought, though she wished the elder Malfoy had told her that his son was so inexperienced. Virgins required extra care. It wasn't a bad thing, it was just a true thing.

"Can I ask you how far you've gone sexually with another person? Woman or man," she asked, hoping to reassure him that he could be speak his mind.

Draco made a face. "Women only for me, thanks. And Uh..." he trailed off. He was unsure which answer would serve him better in this situation. Lie, and she might jump right into it or tell the truth and have her baby him, or worse...pity him. He opted for option B, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Kissing mostly. Hand stuff, over clothes," he admitted.

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you touch yourself?" She asked.

He snorted and looked away. "I'm a fifteen year old boy at a stuffy coed boarding school. Of course I bloody touch myself," he answered, feeling emboldened by her openness...or possibly the Scotch.

She laughed. "That's good! And what do you think about when you do?"

 _Lyra._

"I dunno. Girls," he mumbled.

Olivia shot him a look like she didn't buy it. "Lots of girls, or is there a particular girl?"

Draco made a choked noise and stared down into his drink.

"She is your girlfriend?" She asked.

Draco stared more intently into his drink. "No, not exactly," he answered.

Olivia nodded sympathetically. "Is she with another?"

"I don't know, but I bloody well hope not," he answered. "I only get to see her a few times a year."

She made some kind of pretty exclamation in french to voice her dismay. "I have some experience with that myself. It's a terrible feeling."

He shrugged.

"So, when you touch yourself and you are thinking about this woman, what are you doing?" She pressed.

He frowned. "I'm just...with her. I'm touching her mostly, sometimes I'm inside her, sometimes I'm using my mouth on her."

"What is she doing? Is there something she does in the fantasy that arouses you the most?" She asked.

"She comes," Draco blurted out unable to stop himself. "I mean, she cries out, melts into me. Goes limp in my arms, that sort of thing," he confessed.

"You're aroused by her pleasure. That's very good, Draco. Not all men are like that, but all truly good lovers are just like that," she told him reassuringly.

"Is my father like that?" He asked, raising an eyebrow deviously.

She emitted a bright peel of genuine laughter that lit up the room. "You know I can't say."

He made a mock pout and decided to try flirting. "Come on, love. It's my birthday."

She laughed again. "Since it's your birthday..." she began. "I think you already have an answer in your mind for that question and you are most probably correct. More than that, I cannot tell you," she told him with a smirk.

"I think I understand you perfectly," he replied with a sardonic smile.

She smiled. Her little virgin was full of surprises. This might not be such a terrible weekend after all. "Would it be alright if I showed you? Would you be comfortable with that?"

"Show me what?" He said, tilting his head.

"How to make a witch come. How to make her cry out, melt into you, go limp in your arms," she clarified, parroting his earlier words.

 _Now that's an idea_ , he said to himself. He wanted to get his hands on Lyra as soon as he saw her in August, but what if he was rubbish? What if he hurt her? Olivia came with no strings or expectations and, above all, she was a professional. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment.

"Yes. I'd like that," he answered.

* * *

 **Author's Note...the sequel - Those of you who have read The Pawn, my other fic in this AU may remember Olivia. I'm sure opinions on her will be split, but I like her (much more than I like Draco in this bit) and I think she plays an important part of the story. I am all ears for your rants or raves and appreciate all of your reviews/follows/favs. Happy reading! -MM**


	19. Chapter 19

**June 1995**  
 **Brooklyn, New York**  
 **United States of America**

"Can we talk about literally anything else?" Lyra pleaded.

"No, baby. This is important. You're almost fifteen. By my clock, you're behind. You need to know this stuff. Caelum got the talk at thirteen. Consider yourself lucky," her mom fired back matter-of-factly. "Ok first, contraception charms."

Lyra groaned.

"What?! You're going back to Scotland in a few months to see your darling Drogo and I want you to be prepared for a few things. One: contraception charms, Two: the principles of consent and Three: how to combat an attacker."

"Ok, Mom. Quick rebuttal. One: It's Draco, you know it's Draco. We talk about him all the time. Two: We are not having sex and I can learn how to do a contraception charm from a book should the occasion arise. Three: You already drilled me on consent last break and Four...actually the self defense bit sounds legit, but other than that, I think I'm all set."

Her mother narrowed her eyes.

Lyra narrowed her eyes in an identical manner.

"Sit down, baby," Marla Black commanded her daughter. Anyway, contraception charms...," she began.

Lyra sighed and plunked herself miserably into a kitchen stool.

After what seemed like hours of mom-monologue, Lyra and Marla went out to Nomaj Brooklyn for ice cream. Lyra had just got to thinking that her mother was off her sex-ed soapbox when it began anew as they strolled the streets with their cones.

"Now, honey, I don't want you thinking that sex is all doom and gloom," Marla cautioned her daughter.

"Why would I think that? I mean all you did was lecture me deaf for a few hours and make me stare at incredibly graphic pictures of dragon warts and pubic lice. What's not to like?" Lyra joked.

"I'm a mediwitch. You think I'm not going to make you look at the pictures? You're crazy!" Her mom dismissed.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "No, momma. I think you're going to make me look at the pictures"

"You're damn right I am," Marla mumbled smugly.

They walked a bit in comfortable silence, finishing their treats before venturing into Williamsburg to go window shopping.

"My point is that sex can be a beautiful and fulfilling human experience, but it's more than just an experience, it's a responsibility as well. I want you to enjoy your sexuality, but you can't fully enjoy something without understanding it first," her mom explained.

That made sense to Lyra, so she nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, baby. Anything," the older witch replied.

"Without too many shady details about you and Dad...I mean, keep it clean here. What is your favorite thing about sex?" She asked.

Her mom hummed thoughtfully. "That's a tough one. There are a lot of good things about it. I think my favorite thing is the warmth."

"The warmth?" Lyra pressed.

"Yes. Having another person's skin heat your body, it's...it's better than anything. And imagine having that heat not just surrounding you, but inside of you as well. I can tell you, that there isn't another feeling out there like that. Not being in front of the fire on Christmas, not a big 'ole swig of coffee. Nothing."

Lyra gasped in mock amazement. "Bullshit. Nothing's better than coffee."

Her mom smiled. "It's close for sure, but if I had to choose..." she trailed off.

Lyra laughed and took her mom by the arm to pull her into a coffee shop.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Quick one here. Next chapter is back to Draco and it gets...interesting. Happy Reading! -MM


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note - M rated. Pretty much the whole dang thing. Also, if you'd prefer not to read about Draco with another woman, skip this chapter.**

* * *

 **June 1995**  
 **Malfoy Manor**  
 **Wiltshire, England**

"It's alright. You can touch me. In fact, you're not going to get me screaming without it," Olivia joked, reclining lazily on the large crimson bed in the guest suite.

"Clearly not," Draco replied, feigning nonchalance. He crawled up along side her and placed an unsure hand on her thigh, over her gown.

She reached down and pulled the gauzy fabric up to give him access.

He swallowed hard and eyed the thatch of dark blonde curls between her legs.

"Here," she said gently. She placed her hand over his and slid it until he was cupping her.

He felt the teasing scratch of her hair and and the inviting warmth of her bathing his hand. It piqued his interest, needless to say.

"Go deeper," she encouraged, pressing two fingers down on his, guiding him to the delicate skin below.

She drew his fingers to the top of her slit and made them circle around the little bump of flesh at her apex. She hummed a happy noise and pressed her hips up to make the contact stronger.

"Do you know what that is?" She whispered.

"Yes," he replied gently, daring to begin moving his digits on his own.

"Focus there first until I get wet and then keep pressure while you add a finger or two inside," she instructed. "If your witch hasn't done this before, add only one finger and go very slowly until she tells you otherwise."

He nodded thougtfully. "What else do I do?"

She smiled warmly at him. "Well, you can kiss me. Mouth, neck, breasts. Anywhere is good as long as you don't let it distract from you're doing down there."

He brought his free hand up to her chin and used it to turn her head to the side. He started planting gentle kisses behind her ear and trailed down her collarbone to her chest. He found her nipple underneath a thin leaf on her dress and took it into his mouth experimentally.

Olivia moaned and arched her back to give him better access.

 _Whoa. That's bloody brilliant_ , Draco quipped to himself, feeling his pulse start to quicken and his cock buck painfully against his trousers.

"Ow. That hurts, darling," she cautioned, coming back down on the bed.

He popped his mouth immediately off her breast. "Sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Not there. Here," she clarified, slowing the pace and depth of his fingers rubbing over her clit.

"Gods, did I hurt you?" He asked, concerned.

"Just a little. You got excited. Enthusiasm is good, but be careful," she counseled.

He moved his fingers more gently and dipped his head back down to nip at her breast. "Is this okay?"

She smiled. "Very," she purred, running her fingers through his hair. "And you did what any good lover, even one with loads of experience, would do. You stopped, you apologized and you asked for feedback without any fuss. You're doing just fine," she encouraged.

He relaxed a bit and worked her until he felt the wetness creep out of her, coating her inner folds. "May I?" He asked.

She nodded her assent. "Index and middle fingers inside. Use your thumb on my clit," she encouraged.

She had a handsome blush on her cheeks and Draco enjoyed the way her voice was getting dark and husky.

He looked hotly at her damp sex and trailed his two fingers down, probing gently for her opening. He slowly inserted them into her and had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from coming in his pants. She felt like tight, silky perfection.

"Don't stop," she panted, after several more minutes of play.

"Not fucking likely, love," he whispered back, swiping his thumb across her bud as he pumped his digits deep into her. There was a kind of a method to it, he realized.

"Do you feel that? Do you feel me getting tighter?" She asked, with a little moan breaking up her words.

"Yes," he breathed, trying his hardest to focus.

"It means you're going to make me come soon. Don't speed up, just keep doing what you're doing and hold your fingers still inside me when I tell you. I want you to feel it," she said quickly, before she broke off into a gasp.

 _Merlin's balls this is amazing_ , he said to himself. _Don't speed up, don't speed up._

Olivia started writhing under his hand and it was gorgeous. Her hair splayed, her legs out to the side haphazardly. She gripped suddenly on to his forearm to bring his fingers in just a little deeper. When she did it, she sighed and, to Draco it sounded almost like...relief? Whatever it was it was alright by him.

"Now," she whispered to him before crying out.

He froze and felt her sheath pulse around him and a new stream of sticky arousal paint his hand. It felt like she was trying to trap his fingers inside and he bloody well loved it. He could feel the tension break in her body as she came down, shivering softly.

She looked up at him, dazed, with a sweet little smile playing across her lips. It made him feel smug and powerful to know he'd made her look that way, and make all those delicious sounds.

She reached up and grabbed him, pulling him down to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was a bit odd, as he was fully dressed, but he didn't find it unpleasant.

"That was wonderful, darling. Thank you," she said breathlessly into his ear. She held him to her for a few moments until she caught her breath and then let go, rolling on to her side to face him.

"So, what did you think?" She asked him with a devious smile.

He smiled back at her. "It was okay, yeah," he joked.

She narrowed her sable eyes at him.

"It was fucking incredible," he conceded.

"You did very well," she congratulated.

"I aim to please," he quipped back.

She snorted at him. "Would you like me to touch you?" She asked, running her hand down his side.

He made a noise of hesitation.

Her eyes warmed and she removed her hand. "If you're unsure, it's better that I don't."

He breathed out a humorless laugh. "You don't have to coddle me like some clueless pet." He hated being pitied.

"It's not coddling, it's respect. You get to choose who puts their hands on you, same as anybody else," she told him.

"Same as you?" He asked.

"Yes, Draco. Same as me," she replied.

He made a thoughtful face. "How does that work for you? I mean, what if he's twenty-five stone and covered with boils?" He asked with sincere interest.

She smiled. "Well, there aren't many who can afford a woman like me who couldn't also afford to pay a chef to cook for them and a mediwizard to treat their boils, but when I do have a client who has undesirable physical or personality traits, I try to shift my focus on to something about them that is desirable. Maybe my twenty-five stone lover who is covered in boils is great with his mouth, or plays the lute. People will surprise you. If you let them," she explained.

"Hmm," he replied.

She yawned and settled deeper into the bed.

Draco watched her drift off before he went into the bathroom to change. He emerged back into the bedroom and stared at her for a moment. He wanted to lie down with her. It had been ages since he'd fallen asleep with his witch in his arms and Olivia was like Lyra in a lot of ways. He closed his eyes and sighed. Black hair, golden eyes, bright smile. He opened them again and let his gaze roam once more over the lovely woman in his bed. He rubbed a conflicted hand through his white hair and retreated for the couch in the sitting room.

* * *

"No teeth, my darling," Olivia breathed to him as he swirled his tongue over her clit.

"Sorry," he grumbled with his mouth full. "How's this?" He asked before sucking the dewy bud into his mouth and pulling away slightly.

Olivia moaned loudly in response.

Draco smiled into her sex and brought his hand up to tease at her opening.

"Mmm, yes. Please," she begged.

His hips twitched of their own accord into the mattress beneath him as he pushed two fingers gently inside her. After just a few thrusts, he could already feel her starting to constrict around him.

"Do this, do this," she told him urgently.

He pulled his mouth off her and looked up at her in question. She was holding out two of her own fingers and making a curling motion.

"Forward," she panted.

He did it, and his fingers bumped against a rough patch of tissue on her outer wall.

She groaned loudly, fisted her hands in his hair and guided his mouth back in between her legs.

With just some additional light passes of his tongue, she was unraveling beneath him. She screamed and her hips started thrusting gently in time to the throbbing of her sex. A deluge of warm nectar flooded out of her and blessed his chin. He lapped it up dutifully, savoring her taste.

After one particularly energetic swipe, Olivia made a squealing noise and wiggled away from him slightly.

"Does that hurt?" He asked in confusion.

"No, no. I'm just sensitive right now," she clarified.

"Ah," he responded, pulling his fingers out of her slowly, which caused her to hiss pleasurably.

"Will you hold me for a moment?" She asked. "Some women like that after they come." Normally, she wouldn't make such a request, but he had asked her earlier that morning to enlighten him on what to do with a woman after 'making her go all batty.' His words, not hers.

He coughed awkwardly. "Sure," he replied, crawling up her body and laying on his side so she could reach him. He didn't know why he felt weird about it, he'd just gone down on her after all, but that felt somehow less intimate than cuddling. Still, she had been infinitely willing and kind to him since the day before so he wanted to grant her request.

She wriggled into his arms and rested her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. He threw his arm around her waist and drew light patterns on the skin over her lower back.

She was nude and he could feel the warmth of her seeping through the thin cloth of the t-shirt and sweats he wore. Their groins were aligned and there was no doubt that she could feel his erection pressing into lower belly. She smelled like jasmine. It was sweet, but not quite right.

She gave a satisfied sigh and snuggled deeper into him. She rather liked her little virgin. He was attentive to instruction and genuinely focused on her pleasure. Whoever his mystery girl was, she would be in good hands when the time came for foreplay...far better hands than she had her first few romps, anyway.

"Olivia?" Draco said gently into her ear.

"Yes, darling?" She replied.

"Would you...that is to say can we...I mean would you show me how to...you know," he stammered.

Olivia huffed out a chuckle and pulled back to look at him. "What is it?" She asked.

He blushed and looked away. "You know."

"You want to have sex?" She questioned.

"I...I want you to show me how to do it properly if I'm with somebody who's never done it before," he muttered, blushing hotter. "How to be good for her. Not hurt her," he added.

"I see," she replied. Olivia was a fool for lovesick sweethearts and this boy was it. He wasn't her type, being that he was a he, and she preferred women as romantic partners, but he had the all the makings of a great bedfellow in him, she could tell.

She considered his proposal for a moment and although she was not looking forward to magically repairing her hymen just so he could break it, she was interested in the prospect of helping handcraft a thoughtful, competent lover to go off into the world and do good work for womankind. Women were superior creatures, and for some insane reason, most of them wanted to fuck men. She owed it to her sex to bring those men out of ignorance where she could.

"I will. But I have two conditions," she told him.

He frowned. "Go on."

"First, I want you to tell me a little bit about your witch. It's important to get a sense of who she is so I can try to determine what she'll like. Second, I would prefer if when I show you that it's not also your first time," she explained.

"Meaning," he pressed.

"Meaning I would like you to let me have you first, Draco. I'll take good care of you. I promise," she said softly to him.

He pulled away from her a bit, looking uncomfortable. "No, I mean...that doesn't matter. I just want to be good for her if we..." he began.

"I know. I know," she cut him off. "You want her to have the best possible experience. I think that's wonderful. I'll walk you through what I know, but your first time should be about you. No tutorials, no lectures. Plus, being inside a woman for the very first time ever, you're not going to be in any position to learn. You will just have to trust me on that."

His frown deepened and she wondered what he was thinking. She had to commend him on his self control. He'd done better than most young men would do in bed with a naked woman. His girl must be something quite special, she figured.

"Ok. Yes," he replied after a few moments consideration.

She smiled. "When was the last time you came?" She asked.

He blushed, but didn't respond.

"I'm asking because if it's been awhile I think you should get off beforehand so you last longer when we get going," she explained.

He nodded in understanding. "I think I'm all set. I had a quick wank in the bathroom before breakfast," he informed her, not meeting her eye.

"Good," she stated plainly. "Lie down on your back," she purred softly to him.

He swallowed hard, realizing that this was happening now, but he complied nevertheless.

Olivia sat up and perched herself above him, straddling his hips. She started slowly, running her hands down the fabric of his shirt. She leaned over and pressed some wet kisses to the underside of his jaw and he tipped his head to the side to encourage her to give some attention to the space around his ears. He loved that.

She didn't miss a beat and trailed her mouth behind his ear, sucking on the sensitive skin. He hissed and his hips came off the bed, grinding into her.

She giggled. "You like that?" She whispered hotly.

"Yes," he breathed, bringing his hands to her waist.

She sat back and worked her way under his shirt, teasing the flesh of his stomach with her nails. "Sit up," she commanded.

He did as requested and she pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She bent down to him and started kissing down his chest. It felt so good. She made her way down his stomach and put her hands on the waistband of his sweats. She took them down just slightly and sunk her teeth lightly into fine curls of hair just above his cock.

"Bloody hell," he cut out, arching his back.

She cleverly used that motion to rid him of his sweats and underwear. Once he was naked, she crawled back up his body and reclaimed her perch on top of him.

The sensation of skin on skin was searing him to ash and he realized why Olivia wanted to do this first. He was practically incapable of thought. How was he fool enough to think that he could learn while she was...while they were? _Gods, this is fantastic._

She brought her chest to his and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "If you want me to stop for any reason, you just say so, alright?" She whispered against his mouth.

He didn't trust his voice not to break so he just nodded, his nose rubbing against hers.

She lifted herself up and smoothed her hands down his torso. Adjusting a bit, she freed his length from in between their bodies. She took his cock in her hand and pumped it slowly from root to tip, smearing the precum gathered at his crown over the entire head.

He gasped. It felt a lot better than when he did it to himself, that was for sure.

Olivia toyed with him for a moment, letting him get used to the sensation of another person touching him. She didn't want him getting too close this way though, so when his writhing got a little too wild, she backed off and moved her hands away to safer real estate.

"Are you ready?" She asked him.

He swallowed thickly. "Go on, then," he told her. He was nervous. He understood how silly that seemed. But he just was.

She grabbed him again and lifted her hips, guiding him to her opening. She lowered herself down very slowly. Once he was fully inside her she braced her palms on his chest and waited for him to recover. He looked too adorable for words. She smiled at him. He couldn't see her of course, because his eyes were clamped shut.

The sensation of being enveloped in her warmth hit him like a locomotive and he couldn't breathe. He got it now. He knew why men fought for this. Why they would risk their lives for it. She was soft as satin and wet as the tropics. She flexed her hot core around him once and he knew that he was probably going to die.

"You need to breathe, my darling," she told him, rubbing a hand soothingly down the side of his neck.

He made a choked sound and struggled to fill his lungs.

"That's it, mon coeur. That's it," she soothed. _Poor things all lost_ , she quipped internally.

Draco's eyes flew open and he gripped on to her hips forcefully. "Move," he commanded in a gravely voice, his eyes melting to mercury.

 _Or maybe he's not so lost_ , she corrected herself. She covered his hands with her own and starting gyrating her hips smoothly to work him, starting slow.

She held the reigns for a good few minutes but then he surprised her again by toppling her swiftly on to her back and taking over. He sheathed himself inside her in a way that was authoritative, but not rude. Olivia had to admit, it was a bit sexy.

She moaned as he bucked into her enthusiastically. "That's good," she panted into his ear. "Take me how you want me."

Draco growled and sped up. He knew what he wanted now. He just needed to hunt it down. "Hold me closer," he whispered, his voice remarkably human in the midst of all of the animalistic things they were doing together.

She wound one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, put the other on the small of his back and pulled him down, crashing him into her. Despite her earlier hesitations, she found that she was actually having a very nice time.

His pace started to falter, his breath grew erratic. "Fuck...I..."

"Come, Draco. It's alright," she soothed.

He shuddered in her arms and, for the umteenth time in the past day or so, did exactly what she told him to do. Normally, he didn't like being bossed around, but he would take it from her any day. She was a hell of a mentor.

He went limp in her arms afterwards and Olivia held him tightly, muttering calming endearments to him in french as he came down. Her English clients always liked that.

* * *

"So you two read each other's minds?" She questioned, popping a strawberry into her mouth as she lounged on the couch. She was convalescing after she'd made good on their agreement and shown Draco how to have sex with a virgin. As a perk after the uncomfortable ordeal, she decided that she would be keeping all of the fruit for herself, which he didn't seem to mind as he reclined opposite her, idly rubbing her feet.

"Yes. And she's better at it that I am," he responded. "I don't know how she's going to react to all this."

"I think you do know. I barely know anything about her and I think I know how she's going to react," Olivia argued.

Draco frowned.

"She going to be angry, because she's passionate. Then she's going to try and pretend she doesn't care, because she's proud. After that, she will probably pound you into the earth with some sharp words, because she's intelligent. Finally, if she loves you as you say, she will have a good cry, pop you in the nose and, provided that you grovel appropriately, afford you the privilege of letting you worship her body like she deserves," she explained.

"How in Merlin's beard could you possibly know all that?" He asked, incredulously.

Olivia shrugged. "Because I know myself. Based on what you've said, she sounds kind of like me. I approve," she said with a devious smile.

"Well, thanks for that, love," he said with a roll of his pale eyes. She wasn't wrong, there were many similarities there in terms of personality.

"Can...can I give her a message?" She asked.

He cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You say she can see your memories. Let me give you a memory, just for her," she clarified.

"I dunno," he began.

"I'm doing it," she bulldozed over him. "This is about sisterhood. You just sit there and don't interrupt," she commanded.

He scoffed.

* * *

Olivia kissed him warmly on the cheek several times before stepping into the floo. "Best of luck to you, my darling," she said to him with a wink before disappearing into the green flames.

Draco stood by the fireplace for a few moments, lost in thought. The chime of the clock found him and he frowned at the time. He sighed heavily and started making his way to his father's study, per their earlier discussion to meet up Sunday evening.

A house elf appeared to him suddenly as he ascended the grand staircase that led him to his father's preferred floor in the east wing.

"Sir, a package for you," the elf said with a bow, holding a rectangular parcel out to him.

Draco took it with a nod and the elf disappeared.

He opened it without thought. It was a journal. Fine leather, cord closure, rich buttery texture. It was nice. Tasteful, even. He peered inside the box for a scroll and found nothing, so he tossed it aside. He opened the book, expecting to read some boring inscription from a nameless relative he never saw, but started when he recognized Lyra's narrow, orderly script in ink on the dedication page.

 **Draco,**  
 **Happy Birthday, baby.**  
 **I hope you get everything you want.**  
 **With love,**  
 **Lyra**

He ran his fingers gingerly over her words and closed his eyes.

 _Fuck._


	21. Chapter 21

**August 1995**  
 **Muggle London, England**  
 **Heathrow Airport  
**

Draco was uncomfortable. He was surrounded by Muggles, he had arrived to the main terminal of the public airport in a horrible contraption called a taxi and he was, by his standards, embarrassingly under-dressed. He wanted only to collect his witch and get her to the train station in safety and comfort, which would likely be impossible because they had to take yet another bloody taxi.

He scanned the area anxiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of her raven hair, but he saw only flight officials and fattish looking businessmen. He sighed. If the glowing information boxes were to be believed, her plane had already landed. Where was she? He hated this place. It was loud, crowded and stunk of human sweat and gods know what else. He should charter her a plane in the future. She should never have to set foot in this horrid cesspool ever again.

"Excuse me, are you..." a voice said from behind him. He felt the pressure of a hand on his arm and spun around quickly to repel whichever stupid muggle had dared to touch him.

"Mine?" Lyra gasped, her eyes melting to pools of shimmering gold.

"Are you mine?" She repeated in a daze as she looked up at him in disbelief.

He couldn't control the huge smile that crept onto his face as he looked at her stunned expression. "Yeah, sweetheart. I think I am, actually."

She reached up to touch his face to make sure he was real. "What...how..." she sputtered, stepping in close to him.

"So eloquent," he teased, clicking his tongue.

She beamed at him and pulled him down by the neck for a kiss.

* * *

 **August 1995**  
 **Wizarding England**

"I still can't believe you came to get me. I saw your hair in the crowd and was sure that I was dreaming," she chattered happily. "But it was you," she said in satisfaction as she snuggled deeper into his side.

They were taking a private train back to Scotland again, this time without the unwelcome presence of his father. They were alone and he had her all to himself. He desperately wanted to pass the time laying her down and showing her his new tricks, but he knew he couldn't just yet. He had to tell her. He was petrified. Of her wrath, of her rejection, but mostly of her sadness. He hated knowing that he'd hurt her...and he knew this would hurt her. He just hoped she could forgive him.

He shook the worried thoughts from his head and turned her around in his arms. He kissed her long and deep, _just in case_ , he told himself. _J_ u _st in case..._

He pulled away reluctantly and took a calming breath. "Sweetheart," he said down to her in preamble.

"Baby," she replied in mock seriousness, a cute smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I need to tell you something," he said meekly. He could feel his nerve starting to slip.

She furrowed her brow in concern. "Okay," she reassured him gently, leading him to the plush green bench along the window in the traincar. "Is everything okay? Family good?"

"Yes. They...we're all fine. But I..." he trailed off and roughly cleared his throat. "I...er...that is to say that I..." he sputtered.

"Baby, what is it? You're making me nervous," she said softly, grabbing his hands.

He inhaled hard. "I slept with someone," he admitted in a rush.

Lyra froze. "Oh," she replied dumbly. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She withdrew her hands and let them fall limply into her lap.

"No. It's not like that. It was a gift. I mean...she was a gift," he babbled mindlessly.

Her amber eyes widened in disbelief and he realized how horrible that must sound.

"She was an escort. Professional, very well compensated. In my family it's apparently a tradition of sorts for a fifteenth birthday," he tried to explain.

Lyra exploded off the bench and fled to the opposite side of the car. She faced the window, her back turned to him and tried not to hyperventilate.

He stood and approached her slowly. "Sweetheart, there wasn't anything romantic about it. It was really more...instructional than anything else, if you want to know."

"Why in God's name would I want to know?," She questioned coldly.

"Lyra," he breathed. "I tried to put it off, but she...this woman, she's close with my father and if he found out that we spent the weekend playing wizards chess there would have been hell to pay. I explained the situation to her, that I want to be with you but we're rarely together and she offered to walk me through how to do some things so I could treat you well when I saw you. It's really-"

"Don't you dare," she growled darkly, turning to him. "Don't you dare try to say that you fucked your father's whore for my benefit, you selfish thing."

He balked. Lyra was routinely foulmouthed, he thought it was cute, but she had never unleashed at him like that before. If it had been anyone else, he would have come back with fury. But she wasn't anyone else, and he swallowed his anger. He had to fight to steady his breath.

"Sweetheart-"

"I'm not your sweetheart," she cut him off, looking away.

His guts twisted. It hurt.

"We're not together. You're free to fuck whoever you want," she said thinly off into the ether, trying to force legitimacy into the hollow words. They felt wrong. Down to her soul they felt wrong. He was hers. She was his.

"You don't mean that," he replied. "I know I hurt you, I just..."

"Just what? Just didn't care? No, I get it. Remember Lyra, when daddy is around don't even speak unless you can pretend to be a rich, English twit," she bit out cynically. "I will always take a back seat to your father's approval. I guess doubly so if you can get laid in the process. Message received."

She was ruthless. If she'd been doing it to someone other than himself, he might have been impressed.

"I mean, you don't even understand what you're asking me to do right now, do you? Do you?! You essentially want me to thank you for fucking a prostitute because she taught you some cheap foreplay? You think I'm going to just lie down for you and let you..." she couldn't finish the sentence. She'd never been so mad in her whole life.

She stalked over to him and got in his face. "Do you want to know the worst thing about this? The thing that hurts the most?" She whispered to him.

He swallowed hard, but didn't break her gaze.

"If the tables were turned, if I had casually fucked someone, you wouldn't forgive me. You wouldn't even try. You'd call me a slut and then come up with a dozen different ways to break my heart, just because you could. Because you're a goddamned bully and a hypocrite," she said with tears quivering in her pretty eyes.

Draco looked away, but made no effort to defend himself. She was right, of course. He had proven that well enough last year when she'd told him about the idiot muggle she'd kissed and he tortured her for it.

"Tell me I'm wrong," she said up at him.

He shook his head.

Lyra's breath quickened in rage. "Say something. Say something that isn't an excuse," she pressed, stepping even closer to him.

Draco could feel the venom rising in his throat. He couldn't lose control. "You need to step back, love," he warned.

Lyra did not step back. Lyra didn't give a shit. "Fuck your temper. Say something, you coward," she hissed.

His jaw flexed involuntarily.

Lyra scoffed and turned to walk away.

"I love you," he told her suddenly, reaching out gently to grab her arm.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Lyra made a kind of angry roaring noise and then Draco was on the ground. He wasn't entirely sure, but he could swear that she had pulled him in and thrown his entire body over her hip and gracelessly on to the floor. He had little time for analysis though as Lyra pressed him further into the plush carpet with her foot dead center on his chest.

She was staring daggers down at him. She hadn't meant to body-check him, but he'd caught her off-guard by touching her and her newly acquired self-defense skills had set in automatically. Stepping on him, though...that was all her.

Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around her calf, running his thumb along a narrow ribbon of exposed skin he found there. "I love you," he repeated. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

Lyra scowled and pressed her shoe a bit harder onto his chest. "You. You are a very difficult person to love," she informed him.

He sighed sadly and closed his eyes. "I know, sweetheart. I know I am."

She released him from under her shoe and walked away. She plunked herself down on a couch and wept silently as she looked out onto the countryside.

* * *

 **August 1995**  
 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Scotland**

Severus had been informed point blank by his daughter that she would not be practicing legitimacy with Malfoy at any point during this interval. Snape had plucked the reason why out of his head easily enough and decided to honor her wishes.

He had to admit, the information came as a bit of a relief to him. With any luck, Draco's indiscretion would be the end of their little romance and she would move on to someone closer to home, and more worthy of her. He split their sessions to keep them separated per her request. He was prepared to send they boy back to his parents estate in Wiltshire but decided to keep him and see if he'd made any progress with the Patronus charm. He had not. Pity...he would just have to pommel him with practice until he figured it out.

* * *

It was a warm day, so Lyra went up to the astronomy tower for some cool air. She took in the scenery, then laid out on the balcony and opened a book. She gave it her best shot, actually reading that is, but her mind kept wandering to Draco and all that had gone on. Her interval was almost half way gone already and she'd seen him maybe twice since that awful day on the train. She was so angry and she missed him every second. Nothing was worse than being near him and feeling like she couldn't touch him. It was awful.

Sucker for pain that she was, she also found herself thinking about this woman, this escort that he had...that they had...you know. Lyra figured that she was probably beautiful and charming and all that garbage and it made Lyra feel painfully insecure. She had wanted...had been planning to take things a bit further with Draco this visit and now it wasn't just her hurt feelings that held her back but also the notion that she couldn't possibly measure up now that he'd been with a woman like that.

She stayed out trying to relax until her stomach protested. She decided against appearing in the Great Hall for dinner in favor of tea and toast in her little kitchen, hoping to avoid him for a little while longer. She rounded the corner into the passageway that led to her rooms and saw a long pair of black clad legs sticking out on the ground outside her door. She sighed heavily but carried on. She would not allow him or one of his wounded little tantrums to drive her from her own space.

She walked over with as much confidence as she could muster and stared down at him. He didn't seem to notice her arrival. He was more pale than usual, his hair was mussed and he was staring down at his wand, which he held limply in his hands. She cocked her head in confusion and watched a tear drip from the end of his nose and disappear into the dark fabric of his trousers.

"Hey," she said tentatively.

His head snapped up. His eyes were rimmed with red and he looked almost green with sadness and exhaustion. He said nothing, but his chin quivered finely and he closed his eyes. He dropped his head back down and began to cry openly.

Lyra's heart constricted painfully in her chest. She'd never seen Draco cry before and it absolutely tore her apart. She knew he was a master manipulator and their unspoken rules of engagement specified that she would have to play it cool, but she didn't want to. She desperately wanted to hold him and make it stop.

She squatted down in front of him after a moment and signed heavily. "What happened?" She asked.

He shook his head and looked up at her miserably.

"Please," he whispered. "I won't speak, I won't even breathe if you don't want me to."

Lyra frowned.

"I...I need to be near you...just in the same room," he croaked before breaking into a sob.

An ocean welled in Lyra's eyes almost immediately and she looked away, narrowing her eyebrows seriously. She gave a single stern nod of her head and stood, uttering the password to open the door. She walked in without another glance at him, but heard him make a relieved little noise and scurry in behind her like a frightened animal. She made her way over to the cupboards so she could make tea.

He collapsed on the far end of the couch and resumed staring at his lap, eyes shedding silent tears.

She packed his tea with sugar and grabbed whatever sweets she could find lying about and wandered over to him. "The boggart, I assume. Patronus charm?" She guessed, shoving mug and candy into his cold hands.

"Something like that," he muttered softly. She was partially right. Snape had frozen him half to death sicking that bloody thing on him all week, but the rest of their session today had just been Snape talking to him. He told him that it was probably for the best what happened, since he and Lyra were an impossible match based on origin and status. He'd also reminded him that big changes were coming in the wizarding world, and change, while thrilling, could be dangerous for some. The old troll had been trying, in his way, to reassure him but had ended up crushing him to dust.

Draco understood the bit about the change well enough. After his birthday tryst with Olivia, his father had basically told him the same. Exciting things were happening and his family stood to benefit greatly if they played their part well. Draco wasn't sure what that part was exactly, but he figured his father knew the best way to position them for whatever was ahead. Until Snape had said it though, it hadn't occurred to him that the buzz stirring among his father's influential friends about the Dark Lord could affect his relationship with Lyra in any way, but now he wasn't sure. And would it be soon? Draco knew that they couldn't be together in any legitimate capacity long term, but he figured they'd cross that bridge when they came to it and now he worried that the bridge was much closer than he thought.

That notion, in addition to the work with the Boggart on top of the whole mess he'd already created left him a frazzled, broken mess by the time Snape had let him go. He stumbled from the potions classroom in a daze and collapsed outside her door.

Lyra cleared her throat. "You should drink your tea."

He snapped back to the present and complied. It was sweet as spun sugar.

Lyra settled on the opposite end of the couch and nibbled on a piece of toast. They sat in silence for a long time, sipping tea and staring into the fire, lost in their respective thoughts.

Once Draco felt strong enough to make the trek back down to his dorm, he stood. "Thank you for this. I can go now," he said thickly and made his way towards the door.

"Wait," Lyra protested from the couch. "That's it?"

Draco looked back at her, puzzled.

"I mean, you don't have anything else to say to me?" She questioned.

He looked around nervously. "I suppose I have some things..." he trailed off. He was afraid to do this now. He was too tired, too broken...too at risk of being painfully honest. He also knew though, that if she'd asked him instead to crawl on his belly and lick her feet he would do it. He would give her anything. He missed her every bloody second.

She waived her hand, indicating he should proceed.

He inhaled warily and plunged in. "I fucked around and did something I knew for a fact would hurt you. Tried telling myself it wasn't a big deal. It was just a 'learning opportunity, as if that would hurt you any less. I knew it wouldn't. You see, I'm not a very good person, sweetheart. I do wicked things all the time to get what I want. What I wanted from her was some experience and an easy way to connect with my father," Draco explained. "He doesn't like me very much and I wish he did. Maybe if I was more like him, stronger, more bold, he'd be less disappointed in me all the time."

Lyra frowned. She made to speak, but Draco cut her off.

"I know you can relate," he said, inferring her thoughts with precision. "The difference between your situation and mine is that you might bend yourself over backward to get a moment of validation from your father, but you would never bend another person backward for it, not even if it's what he wanted. I would," he explained sadly. "You're better than me, Black. You are. You're the best bloody thing there is, but I'm still just...me."

She wiped at her eyes.

"I love you, Lyra. I meant it. It wasn't a desperate lie to make you forgive me. I want you to forgive me, but I'll love you whether you do or not," he told her.

"I'm done," Lyra said quietly, shaking her head.

Draco leaned against the wall in despair.

"I'm done sharing. I don't care how far away you are, you can get a summer cottage on the fucking moon for all I care. You are mine. No more Pansies, no more escorts. I know what I said before and I don't care. You are a total bastard and you are mine. No exceptions," she said, rising from the couch, her eyes burning like embers.

Draco launched himself off the wall and had her in his arms in seconds.

She whimpered his name into his neck and he had never felt such relief in his whole life.

He made a choked sound with his throat and held her close. "Lyra," he breathed into her hair in disbelief. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Gods, I love you."

She nodded sheepishly, burrowing into him.

He squeezed her tighter, just to make sure she was real. She was still his. There was nothing better than that. Nothing he wanted more.


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note - M rated bits scattered throughout.**

* * *

 **August 1995  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

"Come with me," she muttered into his ear.

He disentangled from her a bit so he could see her face. They were in a disorganized heap on the floor together in front of the fire. After the tension between them had broken, they'd crashed into each other with such force as they kissed that they ended up missing the couch entirely.

"Where?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Outside," she whispered excitedly, as if she were telling him a secret.

"It's late, love. Maybe we should turn in," he suggested, with selfish motivation...he was tired and aching to fall asleep in her arms.

She smiled, "Later, baby. Get up," she said cheerily scrambling off his lap and to her feet.

They took some seldom traveled passages out of the castle and onto the grounds to avoid detection. They did run into the Baron on their way out who just smiled kindly at them and let them pass unquestioned.

The full moon helped light their way and the night was very warm. The forest was teeming with the sounds of summer as Lyra led him down to her favorite tree by the lake. A light breeze cooled the sweat on her neck and she ran her hand along the trunk of the tree, looking up at the boughs that were swaying gently and accented prettily by the glittering of innumerable fireflies.

Lyra smiled and looked back at Draco. "You hit me in the face with a snowball under this tree once. Do you remember?"

He smirked. "An excellent shot, if I recall."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I destroyed you, punk. And you broke my nose!" She protested.

"I was an idiot," he offered.

Lyra laughed. "You were," she confirmed. "You were real cute, though," she said fondly.

"I like to think I'm still real cute," he argued, parroting her words.

"You are," she said with a smile, turning back to give the tree another gentle pat. She wandered down to the edge of the water and cast a couple spells into the depths to scatter any sharp rocks and scare off the grindylows.

Draco leaned against the tree and watched her. She set her wand to the side and toed off her shoes. She paused for a moment and then abruptly pulled her blue t-shirt over her head one fluid motion and let it drop next to her shoes. He grabbed on to the tree for stability.

Lyra felt the night air tingle against her skin and she liked it. Every inch of her was buzzing with electricity and she could feel Draco's eyes on her. She unzipped the closure and slid her jeans down her legs slowly before stepping out of them entirely.

His eyes were glued to her body. Her toned legs, creamy tan skin. He trailed his gaze down her spine and lingered on the dimples at the small of her back, just above the line of her underwear. He swallowed hard.

Lyra reached her hand behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. She hesitated a moment and then slid the lacy garment down her arms and tossed it next to her. She unbound her long black hair and let it tumble down her back as he waded slowly into the chilly water. When she was in up to her waist, she turned her head over her shoulder and called to Draco softly. "Bring your wand, baby."

Draco peeled himself away from the tree clumsily and couldn't get out of his clothes fast enough. He plunked into the water without finesse, powering through the cold blast of immersion to get to his witch. He slowed as he approached her from behind. He was nervous...and excited.

She felt the water ripple as he came up behind her. When he got close, she draped her hair over her shoulder, exposing her naked back to him. He wasn't touching her yet, but she could feel the heat from his body and his breath on her skin.

He took her slender arms in his hands and brought his chest flush with her back.

Lyra sighed and pressed into him. She nuzzled the top of her head into the space under his chin and relocated his hands so they were both planted on the soft flesh of her belly. She settled into his arms and looked out at the lake.

"It's beautiful," she sighed.

Draco hummed. He wasn't looking at the lake, he didn't give a fig about the lake. He was looking at her. At her dark hair, glistening in the moonlight, at her exposed breast, at her little body wrapped safely in his arms. She was so warm and close. He bent his head down and kissed the top of her shoulder.

Lyra hissed at the contact. She spun slowly in his arms so she was facing him. Her eyes darkened as she surveyed his naked chest. He was like one of the statues at the old art museum in Manhattan. Long sleek lines of muscle covered with smooth planes of pale skin. She reached out and snaked her arms around his neck.

He lifted her and brought her body into his with firm pressure on her low back. He felt the stiff peaks of her nipples brush against him and he buried his face in her hair and sighed.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and Draco had to stifle a groan. Lyra leaned back and looked at him. They were face to face now. "A little deeper. No dunking unless we both go," she commanded seriously.

Draco smiled and walked them in a bit further until the water was up to their chests. Lyra squealed at the cold and snuggled back into him. She took one of her hands and teased the hair at this nape of his neck with her nails. He was hard before, but that had him practically squirming. He'd left his boxers on, but he knew Lyra would be able to feel him, as they were pretty much hip-locked. She was too perfect. He needed to clear his head. "Alright love, I'd plug that pretty nose if I were you," he cautioned.

Lyra grumbled and hugged him tighter. He laughed and plunged them both into the dark water.

She came up squealing and sputtering. He came up laughing at her. They swam around for a while, pausing occasionally to kiss and cling to each other for warmth. He loved the way she would shiver into him involuntarily when he trailed his fingers down her spine.

After one such shiver, she readjusted so that her back was to his chest again and she craned her neck up to kiss along his jaw. "Are you happy, baby?" She asked.

He smiled. "Maybe."

She pulled one of his hands off her hip and trailed it up her body, placing his warm palm over one of her breasts. He gripped it automatically and pulled her deeper into him.

Her skin was so sensitive. It felt good. She smiled and pressed into him. "Are you happy?" She questioned again.

"Yes," he confessed. Yes seemed too plain a response. He wasn't just happy. He was stunned by how he felt. He didn't think it was possible to feel this happy.

She hummed and reached across to grab his wand from where he'd holstered in his waistband on his left hip. She placed it into his left hand and guided his arm up.

Draco was confused. He had one hand ready to perform some magic, apparently, and the other curved around one of Lyra's perfect tits. It was an interesting configuration, to be sure.

Lyra tipped her head back and nipped at his skin with her teeth. "Expecto patronum," she whispered.

 _Ah_. He got it then. She was trying to make him happy so he could do that awful bloody charm.

"It's just you and me, baby," she purred. "And I'm going to let you keep touching me whether you do it or not, so you really have nothing to lose."

He gave her breast a little squeeze and she laughed. He stared forward out into the lake and set his focus. He inhaled calmly and voiced the incantation.

A coil of silver smoke shot from his wand and spun slowly, Draco thought he saw something forming in the swirls, but then it fizzled out and disappeared. He frowned. It was closer than he'd ever gotten before, but it still fell short.

"That was good," she said, pulling away from him a little.

He lowered both of his hands and shrugged.

She turned around and ran her hand along the side of his face soothingly. "Is...is there anything else I could do to make you even happier?" She asked with a devious little smile.

He laughed.

She leaned in and started planting gentle kisses on his chest. He groaned.

She looked up at him with amber eyes and an adoring smile. "I love you very much, you know," she said.

He bent down and kissed her, deep and slow. He gathered her to him with one arm and raised his wand once more. "Expecto Patronum-" he called.

Bright mercury exploded from his wand and almost instantly assumed the form of a little silver fox that bounded happily out over the lake. Draco felt his magic and his happiness collide powerfully within him and the sensation was incredible.

Lyra gasped and put her hand over her mouth as she watched the little animal frolic and disappear.

"I love you, sweetheart," Draco said down to her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Lyra dropped her hand and beamed up at him. "I can see that," she said with a cocky grin. "He's beautiful, Draco. I love him."

"Her," Draco corrected smoothly.

Lyra blushed bashfully. "Her," she said softly.

"I feel bloody fantastic," he said cheerfully.

She laughed. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, love," he replied, giving her a peck on the lips.

* * *

Severus had given up on the both of them for the second half of the week. They had no focus, no discipline and were generally just insufferable bags of hormones making eyes at each other during their sessions. He assigned Lyra a huge reading list to complete in her spare time before winter and, out of sheer annoyance, shoved them off on Minerva. She had more patience for that kind of foolishness.

* * *

Professor McGonagall had stuck them in the library for the afternoon to help her with some research on Advanced Arithmancy while she attended a meeting. Normally, Lyra would have been tickled to be a part of something like this. Something real, something that could be published. Today, however, she just wanted to spirit Draco away to her room and get her paws on him.

They'd spoken two nights before about what had happened in greater detail. About Olivia. _Even her name was pretty_ , Lyra griped internally. She had treated Draco with compassion and patience. Draco respected her for it and shared that much with Lyra openly. She had even gone so far as to leave a message for Lyra inside his memories. He didn't pressure her to see it, but eventually her masochistic curiosity won out and she read him for it. He was careful to wall off anything that might offend her and she made no efforts to poke around places she didn't want to see. He had distilled it down for her to just an airy voice and pretty face swirling around the ether of his recent past.

 _Hello, my darling. My name is Olivia. I do hope you won't be upset with me for what I have done. I can assure you I have no romantic designs for your boyfriend, though he is a very fine young man. He had a single request for me in regard to foreplay and lovemaking and that was to be instructed on how to treat a woman who had never done those things before. How to minimize her discomfort and maximize pleasure. I obliged him and I think he will serve you well. Women are superior creatures, surely you know this. We deserve great pleasure, we deserve great passion. I have very high hopes for this one that he will provide these things for you. Do enjoy him, mon coeur._

Her message had come as quite a surprise. It wasn't at all what she had been expecting. It didn't change the stinging jealousy that she felt, but Lyra understood, in a way, that Olivia believed she had done her a service and intended for her to um...taste the fruits of her labor? _God, that was a weird thing to think_ , but once Lyra had thought it, she couldn't unthink it. And, women were indeed superior creatures, Olivia had been dead on about that. Lyra had planned on hating her venomously, but found that she did not. She could not.

The other thing she'd learned from her talk with Draco is that it wasn't just his fear of his father that drove him to do what he did. It was also his insecurity as a lover. He hated being bad at things, hated being unprepared. He, like herself, wanted to take their relationship further physically, but was afraid of not being good, and scared he might hurt her.

Since that conversation, Lyra had spent most of her time distracted, fighting her desire to beg him to put his hands on her.

She came back to the present and looked up from the thick Arithmancy book in front of her. He was diligently flipping through a volume and jotting down citations. He always looked so handsome when he was working on something. She gazed at his pale hand that was driving a quill across a piece of parchment and bit her lip. He had gorgeous hands. Strong and elegant. She felt an aching pulse start to throb in between her legs. It was a familiar feeling to her by now, and she felt like it had been a constant in her life for the last few days. The kissing, the lake, it was all good, but it wasn't enough. She needed more.

She looked around to ensure they were alone. They were in a well enclosed little corner of the library and the old librarian would probably be off grabbing lunch or nursing the bottle of whiskey that she kept under her desk. Lyra stood and walked around, leaning on the table next to him.

He dropped his quill, slammed the book shut and leaned back forlornly in his chair. "I bloody well hate this stuff."

Lyra reached out for his hands and pulled him up. She walked backwards until her shoulders collided with a nearby bookshelf before grabbing him by the neck and kissing him feverishly.

He crowded her body into the bookshelf and let her get after him. She was all frantic energy and he thought it was adorable.

She undid the pin that held her robes together and let them tumble to the ground, leaving her in a white button up and gray skirt.

Draco made a pleased sound at the loss of a layer of her clothing and kissed down her neck enthusiastically. She pressed her hips into his and made a breathy moaning sound that drove him crazy.

"Baby, I want you to touch me," she breathed against his mouth.

Draco paused and pulled back to look at her. "Here?" He whispered, puzzled. I mean, he wanted to do it, but he'd planned on laying her back on a big, fluffy bed somewhere and taking his time with her.

Lyra whimpered and twitched her hips against his. "Yes. Now. I need you," she panted.

He quirked his lips at her. Well, it wasn't what he had envisioned, but if his witch wanted a quick fingering against a set of dusty bookshelves, that's exactly what she would have.

Lyra widened her legs and put a foot up on one of the lower shelves. Draco shifted his body a bit to the side of her and put his hand on the inside of her knee, just beneath the hem of her skirt. He leaned in and stationed his mouth by her ear. "If you want me to stop, you say the word, yeah?" He muttered to her.

She nodded and leaned her head into his. He slid his hand up her thigh and brushed gently against the wet cotton covering her sex. He teased her for awhile, until she whined and then he slowly slid aside the barrier of her panties, pressed through the prickly thicket of her pubic hair and dipped his fingers into her warmth.

She was soft and dripping with honey. She gasped at the contact and gripped on to him desperately.

He rubbed two fingers gently over her clit. After a few seconds she cried out weakly. Draco couldn't tell if it was pleasure or distress.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" He grunted to her.

"Yes. God, don't stop," she begged, rolling her hips.

He smirked smugly into her neck and carried on. He flipped his hand to press his thumb into her bud. He trailed down until he found her entrance and circled it with his finger. Lyra gasped.

"Is this okay?" He asked, pushing just the tip of his finger into her to gauge her response.

Lyra inhaled shakily and nodded. "Go slow."

Draco pulled back so he could watch her face. He pushed into her at a snails pace, watching her for signs of discomfort. She winced once, but then her face smoothed out into a look of calm.

She was hot, silky and incredibly tight around his finger. He growled and nibbled on her neck with his teeth while he resumed drawing little circles over her clit with his thumb.

"Baby," she whimpered, bucking her hips a bit to work in time with his hand.

"I want to watch you come, sweetheart. You're so fucking gorgeous," he whispered in her ear.

Lyra was about to die. Every nerve in her body was being taxed beyond measure and she felt the end coming. She whispered his name and then made a rather loud shouting noise as she came.

Draco groaned as her sex milked his finger and coated his hand. _Magnificent_ , he thought to himself.

She pressed her forehead to his as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Is everything alright back there?" A disembodied female voice called from not very far away.

They locked eyes in fear and scrambled to right themselves. Draco had barely gotten his finger out of her and stepped away when the ancient librarian popped into their little alcove.

"Is something the matter? I heard a scream," she said with concern, her eyes scanning over them, lingering on Lyra's discarded robes and flushed face.

"Oh, I..." Lyra sputtered. There was a spider on my robes and I kind of lost it for a minute there," she explained. "I'm sorry. I'm such a wuss when it comes to arachnids."

The older woman narrowed her eyes a fraction and then nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid they all come scampering back into the castle as soon as the weather changes. I hate them too, dear. They're bad for the books," she said with a sigh. "Well, do try to be more measured about it in the future. There's nothing to be done about them, I'm afraid," she said before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving them alone.

Lyra made a noise of relief and collapsed back into the bookshelf. Draco chuckled softly and stood next to her. He ran a hand across her stomach and kissed the side of her head.

Lyra hummed and relaxed back down into her post-orgasm bliss. "That was amazing," she said decadently, leaning into him.

"I agree," he muttered low into her ear.


	23. Chapter 23

**October 1995  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco lounged lazily on one of the leather couches in the Slytherin common room. He abandoned his potions homework and pulled out the letter. He'd received it two days earlier and must have read it ten times since then.

 **Son,**  
 **I've made arrangements with the Headmaster for you to finish your end of term exams ahead of schedule. Your mother and I miss you and would like you home early for the holidays.**  
 **Your father,**  
 **LM**

Draco frowned at his father's elegant swooping script and felt a stab of worry in his gut. Draco wasn't an idiot. His father didn't miss him. Something was going on. He just hoped it wasn't something awful.

* * *

 **November 1995**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra lowered herself gingerly onto the hard bench of the dining table, bracing her sore abdominal muscles as she reached for a roll.

"How goes it there, test dummy?" Diana teased, poking her finger into Lyra's tender shoulder.

Lyra made a noise of protest and wiggled away, stuffing her mouth with bread. "It goes," she confirmed in between bites.

"I don't understand the need for all the calisthenics. Don't Aurors just fight with spells and stuff?" Her friend asked.

Lyra nodded. "Yeah, that's the bulk of it, but getting selected for training is a big deal and being in shape makes me more competitive. Plus, when you're smaller, faster, more agile...I figure you're harder to hit with a hex."

Diana snorted. "Ok, dude."

Lyra smiled at her friend who smiled back.

"Heard anything from your boy lately?" Diana asked.

Lyra sighed sadly. "No, but I'll see him in a few weeks when I'm in Scotland."

"Uh-oh. Trouble in spoiled brat paradise?" Diana teased.

Lyra smirked. "He's a lot better than he used to be. He's just insecure, same as anybody...except he has a very snobby, ruthless set of coping mechanisms," she explained.

"Ah," Diana replied.

"I do have a weird feeling that something's up with him though. He hasn't said anything in his letters, but it's like there's a heaviness on him that I can't place. I wish I would read his mind from his writing, but no dice," Lyra added with a thoughtful look on her face.

"He's probably just impatient 'cause he figures you're going to give it up next time you see him," Diana said raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"God, I really regret telling you that," Lyra said flatly.

"No you don't," her friend shot back.

"Yeah. No I don't," she confirmed.

"You better tell me everything if you actually go through with it," Diana told her seriously.

Lyra shook her head and dove into the rest of her dinner.

* * *

 **December 1995**  
 **Malfoy Manor**  
 **Wiltshire, England**

Draco looked out his bedroom window onto the snow covered grounds of the manor. He was home early, per his father's wishes, and had no sodding clue what he was doing there. He'd been home a full two days and hadn't even seen the man.

He abandoned the scenery and walked over to the large bookshelves that lined the wall by the fireplace in his room. He scanned over the volumes of poetry, history and the occasional romance novel he relocated there from his mother's collection. His eyes fell on a picture of Lyra and her father in front of some museum and he sighed. He couldn't wait to see her. He hoped whatever business his father was up to wouldn't keep him from her very long. They had things to do, he and his witch. Very important things. Things that couldn't wait much longer or he would positively explode.

He sighed and began to pace around the room, lost in the memories of Lyra's touch and the incredible sounds she produced when he made her come.

The final two days of her previous visit had been a blur of desperate romps conducted primarily on the sofa in her guest flat. They emerged reluctantly for their lessons and perhaps a meal so they didn't starve, but otherwise they were locked together, excitedly getting to know each others bodies.

He smiled involuntarily when he recalled how she'd gasped innocently when he showed her, gripping his hand tightly over hers, how he liked being held when he touched himself.

 _"Doesn't that hurt?" She asked, concerned._

 _He hummed and encouraged her to move her fist up and down his shaft. "No," he muttered, pressing eagerly into her touch. "I like it."_

 _Lyra's eyes flared gold and she continued enthusiastically, grabbing the fabric of his shirt with her off hand and pulling him in to kiss him feverishly while she pleasured him._

Bloody hell, he needed his witch.

"Draco?" His mother's voice rang out clearly from just outside the door.

He jumped slightly and buttoned his jacket to hide any physical evidence of his daydream. "I'm here."

His mother entered his room looking like an ice goddess. She was wearing a silver evening dress in rippling silk. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a twist and she had diamonds dripping from her ears.

"Gods, mum. You look lovely," he told her. It was true. Even on an off day, his mother was beautiful, but today, she was positively radiant.

"Don't curse, my dear," she chastised him with a smile, pecking him on the cheek.

"What's the occasion?" He asked.

"We're having a very important guest for dinner," she informed him flatly.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean father is having a very important guest for dinner and we are to sit at his side, look good, and remain mute," he dismissed. _So that's why I'm here...brilliant_ , he quipped internally.

His mother reached out at grabbed his arm suddenly. "Draco. This is serious," she said.

"What are you on about?" He asked, looking down at her incredulously. Her face. She didn't look quite like herself. She looked worried. Scared. "What is it?"

She gripped his arm more tightly "Don't speak unless he speaks to you first. Try to keep your mind clear. He can...he can read your thoughts and I...I know Severus has been teaching you how to do occlumemcy. That's good. Make sure you are deferential and polite. Agree with whatever he says, no matter how bizarre..." she babbled nervously.

Draco furrowed his brow. She was giving him a cross between the "make the family proud" speech and the "you're about to be locked in a cage with a demon" speech. "Mum, what's the matter?" He asked again, grabbing her lightly by the shoulders.

The contact seemed to shake her from her train of thought. She blinked hard and looked up at him, clearing her throat. "Wear the suit from Milan and...and the black dragonscale," she said softly. "Stay close to me. I'll send for you when it's time."

Draco nodded and released her.

His mother smoothed a gentle hand down his cheek and walked out.

Later that evening, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, accompanied by their son and heir, welcomed The Dark Lord into their home. Draco knew, as soon as his eyes landed on the serpentine figure swirling grandiosely into their great hall, that his life was about to change in a significant way. Moments later, as he was bowing in greeting to the great wizard, he had an unpleasant thought: Potter had been right.

 _Alright, this is real now_ , he said to himself.

"Yes, young Malfoy. It's real now," the tall snake-faced wizard said to him, taking his hand.

Outwardly, Draco beamed at him, as he knew he should. Inwardly, he slammed the walls down in his mind.

* * *

 **December 1995  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

"Of course I want to serve him. I'm just saying that I'd like to find ways to compartmentalize my thoughts more effectively," Draco argued.

"Now, why would you need to do that if you're being faithful to him?" Snape asked with an edge.

He sighed. "I don't want the Dark Lord to know every detail of my personal life."

The older wizard smirked. "Why in Merlin's name would the greatest wizard of all time care about the details of your personal life, Mr. Malfoy? I assure you, as long as you give him your loyalty in his upcoming endeavors, The Dark Lord won't care about any proclivities you may have."

Draco clenched his fists and went in for the kill. "Does he know about your daughter?"

Severus's eyes darkened. "He does not, and he will not," he said seriously. Too seriously. He rolled his eyes to break the tension he'd caused. "Anyway, she lives a world away. None of this concerns her, and my occlumency is beyond breech," he said flatly.

"But mine isn't and I think about her all the time," Draco countered quietly, unable to meet his eye. "She is my proclivity. I trust The Dark Lord and I am invested in his vision, but I don't want him to know about Lyra. I want you to help me."

Snape frowned.

"I...I also don't want her to see. She wouldn't understand. It may not matter in America, but here...the Ministry and their ilk have been taking power away from the old families for decades and someone has to stop it. Return the proper balance," Draco stated.

Severus paused and looked down at the boy. His parents had pulled him out of school early to put on a grand display of unity for Voldemort. As soon as their pageantry was deemed sufficient, Lucius had sent the boy back to Scotland with him before Christmas so he and his wife could celebrate the holiday child-free in Ibiza. He'd known Narcissa Black for a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever seen her so heartbroken. And here was her son, split in half. Half lover, half brainwashed drone parroting the ideology of his bigoted father.

He sighed. He didn't want Lyra to know either. The knowledge could only serve to endanger her, break her heart, or both.

"Grab your wand. I'll help you build and fortify some barriers to keep things separate. I can't guarantee they'll work against either of them. They're both quite good at what they do," Snape said, settling into a chair.

Draco retrieved his wand and sat in a desk in the front row of the potions classroom, across from where his professor was seated. "I at least want to try."

"I hope you'll make quicker work of this than you did the Patronus Charm. She'll be here in two days," Severus quipped.

"I know," Draco replied anxiously.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- So this ping-pong chapter is designed to highlight the difference between Lyra and Draco's worlds. She is prepping for Auror training, he is on the cusp of being sucked into Voldemort's service. I also wanted to shed a light on the relationship between Draco and Severus. Draco trusts him enough to ask him for help in obscuring things from Voldemort. At this point in the story, Draco is sincere in his willingness to follow VM's plans, but like a true Slytherin, Draco doesn't want VM to know all of his secrets.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note - M rated in the middle. Please fav/follow/review! -MM**

* * *

 **December 1995  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco was lying on his back on the stone floor of the great hall, throwing an inactive snitch up into the air over and over. Snape had instructed him to go help Professor Flitwick move some boxes in the charms classroom, but bugger that. He was in no state for heavy lifting. He was too distracted. He was worried about his mum, nervous about making a good impression on The Dark Lord in the upcoming months and desperately anxious for Lyra's arrival...which should have been bloody hours ago. He was just overall in a very sour mood.

He caught the snitch without effort and sighed morosely, closing his eyes. The spelled ceiling of the hall was a blinding winter gray, shedding snowflakes down from the rafters like delicate ash. Lyra would love it, but in her absence, he didn't really care to look at it.

Lyra found him like that. Laid out on the cold stone like an effigy. She approached him slowly, so as not to disturb him, and took a place next to him on her back. The tables had been cleared, so it was just the two of them on the floor in the center of the room. She looked up at the ceiling and smiled. The great hall had to be one of her favorite places at Hogwarts and the ceiling was, by far, the best part. Today, it was perfect. Thick bright clouds with a light snow falling. She enjoyed it for a moment before rolling on to her side to take him in.

He was dozing lightly and looked handsome, like he always did. Lyra noticed the corners of his lips were turned down in a slight frown and she hoped he wasn't having a bad dream. She popped up on one elbow and put the palm of her other hand very gently over his stomach, feeling his warmth.

"Draco," she whispered.

He took a deep breath and Lyra watched the tension drain from his face. He covered her hand with one of his and let his eyes flutter open.

"What are you doing down here?" She asked, lacing her fingers with his.

"Waiting for you. You're late. You hate being late. Where have you been?" He pouted.

Lyra smiled at him affectionately. "I got here two hours ago, but Severus snatched me up as soon as I walked through the door to have me help the little charms professor rearrange his classroom."

"Ah. Tough luck, that," he replied guiltily.

She narrowed her eyes. "Mmm-hmm."

"I missed you," He offered in a vain attempt at distraction.

"Yeah, yeah," she fired back, getting to her feet and extending a hand to him. "I missed you too, Frog," she told him pulling him to his feet, and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

* * *

"Ohmigod, baby. Right there," she breathed in a throaty purr. "It's so good."

Draco smirked as he pressed the pads of his thumbs deeper into the firm muscles of her lower back, drawing slow, concentric circles to ease the tension there.

From her letters, she'd kept him abreast of her new interest in exercise, but with her body under his hands, he could truly appreciate the subtle differences in her. He was positively riveted by the new tone in her legs and the heightened topography of the little dimples next to her spine. She was unbelievably sexy.

He nestled closer to her and fastened his mouth to the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder while he continued his work on her back.

Lyra arched into him and gasped, letting her thick cardigan fall from her shoulders. "Don't stop," she begged.

Draco smiled into her neck and carried on.

Lyra was engrossed with the combined sensation of his hands and mouth and, after a time, she started mindlessly pulsing her hips, seeking some friction from her jeans. Draco noticed and pulled her abruptly into his lap, leaning back on the armrest of the couch. Lyra whimpered and ground her backside into his groin eagerly.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he hissed into her ear, letting her writhe on top of him.

She hummed and Draco heard the telltale sound of her zipper being lowered. She pulled her jeans and panties just down over the round of her ass and settled back into him. "Yours too," she panted into his ear.

"You're sure?" He questioned, his voice husky with lust.

She made an adorably impatient noise and pressed deeper into him.

He had his trousers and pants down past his hips in record time and pulled Lyra back down on to him. He hissed at the intimate contact of her warm, smooth skin sliding over his cock in the most sinful rhythm and reached around to find her sex with his fingers.

Lyra gasped. "I want you so much. Can you feel it?" She panted in his ear, covering his hand with her own, encouraging him to bathe his digits in her silky arousal.

"Yes," he rasped, glancing down at her gyrating hips.

"Do you want me too, baby?" She asked, encouraging him to open up. She wanted to hear him say it.

His groin twitched reflexively, answering the question for him.

"Tell me," she pressed, her words truncated by a delicious moan that pushed Draco hard towards his own release.

He gripped her hip forcefully with one hand and worked her clit with the other. "Gods Lyra, you know I do. You feel so good," he babbled mindlessly.

Lyra tipped her head back and came. The blunt force of her orgasm made her knees shake and her teeth rattle. It was so hot. She crashed back into him just in time to feel him go rigid behind her. He banded his arms around her middle and pressed his sweaty cheek to hers. Lyra relished every delicious little noise he made. They were so close that it was like he was breathing pleasure directly from his mouth to hers. She felt his seed splash against her lower back. It seared her like a burn and she loved it.

After he recovered, Draco slipped his hand under the hem of her tank top and let his it rest atop her abdomen, moving gently with the flow of her breath. After a few minutes, she fell properly asleep, fatigued by their activities and her jet lag. He smiled into her hair and then glanced up at the serpent covered clock on her wall. Twenty-seven minutes. They'd been back together for twenty-seven minutes and he already had his witch satisfied and happily asleep in his arms. He found that his mood had much improved from the morning and that had very high expectations for this visit of hers.

* * *

Severus had Lyra and Draco sorting and cataloging the rare potions in his store for the morning and Lyra was about to lose her damned mind. Four days. She'd been there for four whole days and hadn't worked up the nerve to ask Draco for sex. She wanted it. He wanted it. They spent a great deal of time just casually reading each other's minds after all, but it was clear to her that Draco wasn't going to press the issue. That had the annoying dual effect of making her feel simultaneously flattered by his respectful restraint and also pissed that he didn't just throw her down on the floor and fuck her brains out already.

Sure, they'd been having their little tumbles on her sofa like usual, but Draco had been retreating to his dorm every night to allay any suspicion of impropriety, especially from her father, who seemed to apparate around every corner lately, urgently needing them for some menial project.

Lyra sighed. It was all she thought about. Why was she too squeamish to say the words? She needed some courage. She needed some brandy. Wait...no. She didn't want to be buzzed her first time. She wanted to feel everything. She wanted to remember everything. She knew Draco would treat her well and had no apprehension in that regard. She was mostly nervous about not knowing what to do. Sure, she understood the mechanics, but it was one thing to know about something and another thing entirely to go right ahead and do it. What if she sucked? It was an embarrassingly self conscious thing to think, but his first had been a professional escort. How was she supposed to measure up to that?

Lost in her thoughts, Lyra clumsily tripped on the leg of a rickety old stool in the back of the lab and fell to the floor holding an ampule of clear liquid. As she impacted with the rough stone, the glass shattered in her hand, cutting into her skin and splashing the contents of the container into her wounds and onto the floor.

"Fine work, Puk. You missed your calling in ballet, truly," Draco joked.

Lyra gasped in pain and weakly pressed up to her knees with her good hand.

"Gods, love, are you alright?" He asked in concern, swooping in by her side as he realized she was injured.

"I...I think so. I cut my hand," she said, as he helped her up.

He showed her to a chair and gingerly took her hand in his to survey the damage. When he saw the thick shards of glass protruding from her palm, he swayed on his feet.

"Are you ok?" Lyra asked.

He swallowed hard and she felt his hands start to tremble beneath hers. "I...I don't like seeing you hurt. It makes me feel sick," he told her honestly.

Severus entered from the storage room at that moment with his arms full of yet more crates to sort. "What happened, Miss Black?" He asked, frowning harder than usual.

"I tripped and cut my hand because I was thinking about Draco and wasn't paying attention," she blurted out. She gasped after she realized what she said.

He rolled his eyes mightily and looked down at the remaining glass on the ground. "Thin elixir, colorless and odorless?" He questioned.

Lyra furrowed her brow and sniffed. "Yes, actually."

"Veritaserum," her father said definitively.

Lyra's eyes widened. "Fuck me," she muttered.

"Indeed," Severus said plainly. He turned to Draco who, unable to take his eyes off her injury, was bracing himself on the nearest bench.

"Mr. Malfoy, leave us. Get some water or something, you look unwell," he directed.

Draco didn't move.

"Draco, it's ok. There's no use in you falling down too. Plus, I'm not so sure I want you here for the inquisition," she babbled. God, she really couldn't help herself.

Snape quirked his lips at her as Draco made a hasty exit from the room for the blood-free safety of the dungeon corridor.

"Stop laughing at me, punk," she cut out at her father.

"You will not talk like that to me, Miss Black," he said darkly, pulling some bandages off a nearby shelf.

"Uh, I WILL talk to you like that, Professor Snape. Truth potion, remember? I think you're a punk, ergo, I will call you a punk. It's not my fault! I'm a victim here!" She argued.

Her father pulled over the stool she tripped on and sat across from her. "Give me your hand," he said.

Lyra did so and took an internal vow of silence.

Severus smeared a numbing ointment over the surface of her hand before spelling the glass out.

"What makes you think I'm going to subject you to an inquisition, that's hardly fair," he accused nonchalantly.

Lyra scoffed. "How do I know? Because I get you, Severus. You're not the type to waste an opportunity for information. Plus, it's what I'd do myself, if the tables were turned. So, let's just get on with it already," she said miserably.

Severus felt a welling warmth in his chest that felt not entirely unlike pride at his daughter's insightful words, also at her recognition of a key similarity shared between them. _Well, best not keep her waiting_ , he quipped to himself.

"Are you still in love with him?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered. That was an easy one at least.

"Are you sleeping together?" He questioned casually as he dabbled blood from her palm.

Lyra blushed crimson and her eyes glinted with rage. She bit her lip to the point of pain to avoid giving him an answer. After a few tense seconds, Lyra felt like she was suffocating. It was unbearable.

"No," she grunted, breathing in deeply as the pressure on her brain dissipated suddenly.

"Good," he replied plainly, feigning disinterest. "What are your plans for after graduation?"

"I want to be an Auror," she said.

He frowned. "It's dangerous."

"It's what I'm going to do. You can't stop me," she told him honestly.

"Specialty?" He asked.

"Legilimency, what else?" She fired back.

"How do you feel about me?" He pressed, unable to stop himself.

Lyra groaned and tears sprang into existence at the corners of her eyes. "I think you're mean. I think you're proud. I think you're probably a genius or very close. I think you're lonely and it drives you to extremes. You scare me, you bully me, you push me and you've undoubtedly made me a far better witch than I would be without you," she said bluntly.

He nodded once and passed his wand over her hand, sealing her cuts. "Do you hate me, Lyra?" He muttered softly, not meeting her eyes.

Lyra balked. She felt the drowning feeling press back into her temples and took a deep breath. "No," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I don't know how to...how else to...be," he told her with great effort, rising from his seat.

She frowned at him. "I forgive you." She didn't need the potion for that one. She would have forgiven him anyway.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You're dismissed," he informed her.

"Thank god! This is so weird!" Lyra exclaimed. She surprised him by squeezing him in a quick hug around the middle before bounding gratefully from the room.

Severus watched her go and found himself doing something he hadn't done in a very long time. He found himself fighting a smile. Naturally he didn't smile, that would be impossible, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had to tamp one down, _maybe when Potter was sorted into Gryffindor...who knows. It's been ages..._

* * *

Lyra found him resting against the wall halfway down the long corridor. She walked up to him and held her hand out for him to see. "All fixed."

He took her hand in his and raised it to her mouth, kissing her palm.

"I love you," she announced, matter of factly.

He smiled and continued kissing her hand. "Is that right? Snape didn't even give you an antidote? The old snake," he said, smiling deviously.

"And he tortured me with personal questions. No big surprise there," she said bitterly. "You look better."

He ducked his head. "I really don't like to see you bleed."

Lyra laughed. "Well, you'll just have to get over it."

Draco furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, since I'm under the influence of a truth potion, I'll be blunt. I want you to come to my room tonight and make love to me. As you know, I've never done it before, so there may be some blood involved. I'm freaking out, you're the one with the experience and I am going to need you to hold it together, man," she stated plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Draco swallowed hard.

Lyra looked away embarrassed. "You...you don't think it will be a problem, do you?"

"No, sweetheart. I don't," he said softly, putting a hand to her waist.

She looked up at him and blushed furiously. "Good. Because I am about to go insane. Four days, baby! Four whole fucking days!"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You don't have to tell me, love. I was there. Now, I want to wash the smell of stale potions off me and I think we should wait until that serum has run it's course. How about if I come by at eight. Is that alright?"

She thought a moment and nodded. "I suppose. Although it does make it sound like an appointment...but a sex appointment," she told him, dropping her voice and raising her eyebrows playfully.

He laughed. "You're really sure about this?"

Lyra shrugged. "I literally could not lie to you right now if I wanted to. But I don't want to."

Draco nodded and put his hand under her chin to tilt her head up. He kissed her softly and breathed a barely audible "I love you," against her lips.

Lyra pulled away and beamed at him. "I love you too, now go. You smell like wormwood and dirt," she chided, smacking his butt as he walked away towards his dorm.

She inhaled nervously and watched him walk for a moment before she turned and positively bolted in the direction of her room to get ready.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note - Capital M rating on this one. Please review/follow/fav and happy reading! -MM**

* * *

 **December 1995  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

In an uncharacteristic move, Draco was right on time. Lyra jumped at the sound of his knock and rushed to finish putting on her mascara. _God, you are so shallow_ , she said to herself, fleeing from the bathroom to let him in.

She opened the door. _Damn_. He looked good. Dark jeans, black button-up, hair deliberately mussed. He'd put in some work too. _Vain little thing..._

"Hi baby," she said causally.

Draco looked her over. She was wearing her thick heather cardigan over a short green dress. She'd worn green for him. He knew her too well to mistake it for a coincidence.

"Sweetheart," he said with a smile.

She stepped to the side and let him in.

"Tea?" She asked.

He smirked and shook his head. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the sitting area. After he had them in front of the fire, he brought his nose to her hairline and inhaled. "You smell good enough to eat," he muttered to her.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest to hide her blush.

Draco hummed and ran his fingers through her hair. "My witch is unusually bashful this evening."

She laughed nervously and snuggled deeper into him.

"I have something for you," he said over her head.

She drew back and looked up at him.

He pulled a piece of silk out of his pocket and unfolded it in front of her. He picked up a delicate white gold chain with a small pendant hanging from it. It was silver, but flickered a lustrous blue in the firelight.

Lyra gasped and ran her fingers over it gingerly. It was smooth and warm to the touch. "It's beautiful."

Draco nodded. "I helped scale the dragon myself, last spring when I went to Romania with my father. I had earrings made for my mother and this made for you," he said softly to her.

"This is from a dragon?" She asked, excitedly.

"A Swedish Short-Snout, to be exact," he explained.

"It's blue," She mused wistfully at it.

"It's blue," he confirmed with a smirk. "Turn around."

She complied and he fastened the necklace around her neck.

She turned back to face him. "Thank you, baby."

He smiled and adjusted the pendant on her chest. "It looks lovely on you."

Her eyes sparkled and she pressed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Come on," she whispered taking his hand and leading him into her bedroom.

He swallowed hard. This was happening.

She stationed him in front of the large wooden dresser that stood across from her bed. She smoothed her hands down the sides of his black shirt and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He took her by the back of the neck and gently pulled her in for a kiss. The tension between them flared instantly and before she knew it, Lyra was gripping on to him desperately and purring into his mouth.

Draco pulled back with an amused huff. He kissed her on the forehead and looked down at her hotly.

She smiled at him and walked backwards alone until her legs hit the bed behind her. She sat down and looked at him. He was shamelessly gorgeous. She wanted him so badly that it hurt. The throb in between her legs was verging on painful and she couldn't wait another second.

"Take your clothes off," she said softly to him.

He raised a pale eyebrow at her as he brought his hands to his collar and started undoing the buttons.

Once he was out of his shirt, Lyra let her eyes roam over his chest and her breath started to quicken.

He trailed down and undid his beltbuckle. The indecent sound made Lyra stir and he watched as she widened her legs slightly, letting the hem of her dress ride up her thighs. _Bloody hell..._

He let his trousers fall from his hips to the floor, toed off his shoes and then stood a moment in just his boxers.

Lyra was practically panting with desire. She was a bit embarrassed by her behavior, but couldn't stop if she wanted to. And she really didn't want to.

Draco tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and lowered them slowly to tease her.

Lyra held her breath as she took him in. Every inch of him was pale as the moonlight and smooth as stone. His legs were long and lean, like his arms. His stomach rippled attractively with muscles and she found her eyes naturally drawn to the fine line of hair that extended from his belly button down to the blonde curls above his cock. "Holy shit," she whispered aloud. Embarrassed by her profane ogling, she shook her head and brought her gaze back to his face, which was looking comfortably smug. "You're perfect," she told him honestly.

Draco shrugged and gave her a bashful little smile.

Lyra swallowed hard and stood. She dropped her sweater off her shoulders on to the floor then shrugged off the thin straps of her dress. She pushed the fabric down past her waist and let it fall, leaving her chest bare. She stood for a moment, letting the blush splash across her skin and heat her face as she nervously tucked a piece of her black hair behind one of her ears and bit her lip. She quickly reached for the top of her lacy underwear, hoping to hide the tremor in her hands.

"Let me," Draco muttered thickly.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. Melted silver.

He walked over to her, his erection bobbing with his steps. He took her by the waist and kissed her deeply. After a while, he pulled away and lowered himself slowly to his knees in front of her. He leaned in and pressed his lips into the flesh of her belly while he ran his hands up the outside of her thighs. He looked up at her pretty face as he slid her panties down her tan legs.

Lyra grabbed on to him for support as he resumed kissing her stomach. He trailed his mouth down and Lyra felt his breath ghost over her sensitive skin. She gasped.

He stopped and looked up at her in question.

She laughed nervously. "I...I don't think I'll be able to stand upright if you do that," she told him honestly.

He stood and wrapped his arms loosely around her. The underside of his dick brushed against her groin and he involuntarily twitched a light tap on to her stomach. He crowded her back toward the bed. "Then lay down, love," he whispered darkly, running his palms lightly over her ass.

She sat at his command and leaned back on to her elbows to shimmy up the bed. As soon as she settled, he was really able to look at her. All of her. Creamy tan skin, long black hair fanned out beneath her, firm little breasts with tight pink nipples, small waist, round hips, delicious triangle of dark hair covering her sex. She was indescribable. Beautiful was too rough a word, but in the fog of his emotions, it was the only one he had. "Gods, sweetheart. You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he confessed.

She smiled sheepishly. "Still imagining me then?" She baited.

He crawled up her body, letting his skin brush against hers as much as possible. He hummed as he lowered his weight down on to her, trapping his length between them. She opened her legs, deepening the contact. It felt like the most delicious fire igniting all over him. She was soft and warm and her body was so small beneath his. He spared a moment to reflect on how different she felt than Olivia and how different he felt different being in her arms. He curled his fingers into her hair and kissed her softly.

"Yes. More than ever," he answered finally.

"What do you imagine doing with me?" She whispered playfully against his mouth.

His little witch liked to talk. He'd seen that one coming. He knew what to do. "I imagine tasting you, making you come with my mouth," he whispered back.

She whimpered and ran her hands down his back. "What else?"

He pressed his hips deeper onto hers and groaned. "I imagine having you first. I want to worship every inch of you, open you up, make you mine," he told her honestly.

"What else?" She asked him with a shiver.

He kissed over to her ear. "I imagine coming inside you. Imagine you asking me to," he said.

Lyra pulled him back to her so she could kiss him frantically. Her mouth popped off his with a wet smack. "Yes," she breathed to him.

He rubbed his nose along hers and kissed her again. "Are you sure?" He asked.

She nodded. "I want everything."

 _And he would give her everything_. He trailed his mouth down her chest, taking a little time to stimulate her nipples with his teeth and tongue before he continued on to her stomach. He nibbled on her hipbone playfully and she nearly came off the bed. That was good. Olivia had told him that the more aroused she was beforehand, the less painful his entry would be for her. His goal then, was to make her half-mad with lust, and he couldn't be more up for the challenge.

He trailed his fingers down her sex and she jumped slightly at his touch. "Sweetheart, we don't have to do this," he reassured her gently. _Gods, he wanted so badly to do this_.

Lyra smiled to the canopy above the bed and lifted her head. She nearly came undone at the sight of him on his belly in between her legs like he was. "I want to. I'm just nervous," she confessed.

He nodded and leaned forward to kiss her lower abdomen. He trailed his mouth over her dark curls and brought his hand up to part her lips for him. The heat from her fanned against his chin and it made him hard as hell. _Focus, man_ , he told himself. "If I'm doing something you don't like, just say so," he muttered. "If I'm doing something you do like...feel free to say that as well," he added, with smile in his tone.

Lyra laughed.

He gave her a soft swipe down the delicate skin to prime her and she gasped. He circled his tongue around her clit before bringing her ripe flesh into his mouth to suck. She tasted like the rain, but it wasn't the cool, clean scent that came off her skin. It was like summer rain that laid heavy on the trees and clung to the body. The kind that made you sweat. The kind that made you feel dazed and half asleep. She was bloody delicious.

"Oh my god," she breathed.

He worked her with his mouth for awhile until she was writhing and then slipped two fingers inside of her dripping sheath.

It was too much. She fell over the edge. She gripped the blanket beneath her and came with a surprised shout of "Fuck!" as she looked down at him in awe. All she could see was his white hair teasing her with its movement as he lapped her. It was amazing.

He saw her through her climax diligently and gave her just a moment to rest before he resumed the slow pumping of his fingers. He slithered back up the bed to tend to her breasts with his mouth.

Every nerve in Lyra's body was alive and aching for him. She was dizzy. "You don't have to..." She began.

Draco cut her off with a low growl and an authoritative nip at one of her nipples that turned her words into a useless, breathy moan.

He rotated his fingers inside her and sought out the rough patch on her outer wall that Olivia had shown him. He'd only tapped it a few times when he felt the telltale constriction of her core around his digits.

She rushed her hands into his hair and raked down his scalp with her nails. "God, don't stop, baby," she babbled, thrusting her hips mindlessly to encourage him.

A very short time later, she came again, this time more gently. As she peaked, she gripped on to him desperately, holding his head to her breast with one hand and gripping his bicep with the other.

Once she came down, he pulled back to look at her. Her face was adorably flushed and she looked half asleep. He smiled as he pulled his fingers out of her passage, which was relaxed and totally saturated with her arousal. He knew that he'd done all he could to prepare her.

He kissed up her neck and readjusted himself so they were nose to nose once more. She made a satisfied little noise and pressed into him for a lazy kiss. She let her knees fall to the side and the action brought his cock in deep contact with her pubic hair which was slathered with the combined moisture from his mouth and her orgasms. He trailed his palm down her side and took himself in hand to press his shaft down to open her and bathe himself in her honey. He rocked his hips, wetting himself on her engorged folds.

She hummed.

He shivered.

He continued for a few thrusts until he was well coated. He drew breath to ask her one more time if this was really what she wanted, but she beat him to it.

"Yes," she whispered against his mouth.

He sighed and reached down to position himself at her entrance. He put a little space between their faces so he could see her. "Grab my hips," he said in a husky voice.

Lyra did so, opening her legs wider in the process.

"Pull me into you," he grunted roughly, fighting the animal within him that told him just to plunge in and take her.

She could see the strain in his face and muscles, telling her that he was holding back. It made her heart swell in her chest. He was trying to give her control and now that she had it, what did she want? She knew it was going to hurt. Should she go slow to ease in or make it fast like ripping off a bandage? She had no idea. _Fuck it._ She bit hard on her lip and pulled his hips to hers in one smooth, steady motion.

The rupture of her virginity felt like a quick sting. It didn't hurt so much as surprise. The stretching of her body to accommodate his inside of hers...now that hurt. The sensation made her cry out and lift up to bury her face in the side of Draco's neck. The burn was searing and left her breathless. She felt...she didn't really know how she felt, it was so overwhelming. He was hurting her and yet she knew in her bones that only he could make it better. It was beautiful...and kinda fucked up. _I guess this is sex_ , she said to herself.

Draco cradled her head in his hand and massaged it soothingly. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair.

Lyra sighed at the sweetness of the gesture, which seemed to coax her out of her panic. She relaxed back down and looked up at him. "I forgive you," she breathed, into the slight space between them.

He gave her a heartrendingly gorgeous smile and dropped his forehead to hers. She ghosted her hands up his sides and settled them high on his ribcage. She felt a slight tremor in his body, sensing the effort he was using to stay still. "It's alright, baby. Move," she told him, capturing his mouth in a kiss.

Draco made a sound of relief and retreated from her slightly. He paused a moment and slowly reaseated himself, stoking the burn within her. He repeated the action several times and, as he did, he noticed some of the tension start to drain from his witch. She relaxed her grip on his sides, settled more comfortably back on to the bed, and had started breathing more evenly. It was then, and only then, that he started to open himself up to the pleasure of her body.

She was exquisite. Wet, and so tight. It was like very gasp, every moan, every inch of her was tailor made to reduce him to dust. Olivia had told him that it would feel more intense with Lyra, not because she was a virgin, but because he was in love with her. Olivia had been right, like always.

He felt Lyra's foot trail down the back of his calf as he pumped into her and the combination of sensations hit him hard in the gut. "Gods, sweetheart. You feel so good," he whispered.

Her eyes sparkled up at him innocently and he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep his wits about him. She was too much, too sweet.

She began tilting her hips up slightly to meet his thrusts, reveling at the change in sensations she'd felt since they started. The burn was still there, but it was being eclipsed by spikes of pleasure every time he pushed back inside her. With her nerves somewhat settled, she was more able to appreciate how amazing he felt. Smooth and firm and he filled her completely. She got it now, why women would go through this. Why they would hurt for it, why they would bleed for it. Having someone else inside your body, allowing them to find ecstasy like no other in your skin, your muscle, your heat...it made her feel sexy...and powerful.

Draco sped up a bit. "Is this ok?"

Lyra nodded and threaded her fingers into his hair.

He could feel the coil winding tighter in his belly and he gave her a forceful thrust without thinking.

She hummed decadently. "Fuck. Don't stop. It's so..." she babbled to him in a raspy voice before one of his thrusts cut off her train of thought.

Draco looked down at her and reveled in the fact that it was his body, his cock buried inside her, making her mental. "It's so what, love?" He pressed.

Lyra whined and shook her head. She couldn't remember. She just wanted to fuck him forever. Nothing should feel this good. It was insane.

Draco's eyes fell shut and he tipped his head back to give himself just a moment to get lost in her. He knew he shouldn't, he needed to keep it together for her sake, but he couldn't. She rendered him incapable of control. Her slick muscles were gripping him like a vice and she was emitting the sweetest little cries with every press of his hips. _I'll never be free of her_ , was an inexplicable thought that floated through his lust-drunk consciousness as he surged into her.

Lyra moaned and arched into him desperately. "Come. I want you to," she begged, giving him part of his fantasy. It wasn't remotely selfless. She meant it. She wanted it. She had never wanted anything more in her whole life. She didn't even realize that she was capable of wanting anything so much.

Draco dropped his head to her shoulder with a groan as he drove into her. He whispered her name and surrendered himself to the sublime perfection of her. It was the single greatest thing he had ever felt or done. He would never struggle to cast a Patronus again in his life. Not after this. After her.

Lyra gasped breathlessly as his cock pulsed within her, filling her with the most incredible warmth. She understood intellectually what was happening, but there was nothing that could have prepared her for how good it felt to have him come inside her. It felt like completion, like she'd been missing something precious without him. She knew then that she wanted this everyday. She didn't know how she'd be able to do without it when she left.

After he recovered, he lifted his head and looked at her. She was still panting slightly and the movement of her breath sent the pendant he'd given her flashing against her chest in the low light. It caught his eye and made him feel deliciously possessive. She was his.

His gaze was so intense that it made her blush feverishly. "Hi baby," she said to him in a meek whisper, hoping to break the tension.

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her gently. "Sweetheart," he murmured against her lips.

They laid quietly together for a time, Draco's cheek pressed to the swell of her breasts, while she slipped her fingers through the silky strands of his hair.

Later, as he helped her into the bath, his eyes lingered on a small stain of blood on her inner thigh. "Are you in any pain, love?" He asked, once he had her settled comfortably in his lap underneath the warm water.

"Just a little but I..." she hesitated, biting her lip.

"But you what?" He pressed, kissing her neck.

"I like it," she confessed. "It's like I can still feel you."

He nodded and pulled her closer into his arms. Olivia had described the pain to him and said that how a woman felt about it would often be a reflection of how she felt about her partner. If she didn't care for him, she would resent the lingering soreness. If she did, she would accept it, perhaps even cherish it.

"I love you," she said plainly, as if she had read his thoughts. It was entirely possible that she had. He didn't mind, and part of him was terrified that he didn't mind. Sharing himself with her made him feel free and real. Normal. It felt good.

"I love you too," he replied, relaxing more deeply into the tub.

There was no talk of him returning to his dorm that night. He slept with Lyra cradled into his chest, her wild black hair all over the place, her steady breath fanning over his neck. It was perfect. She was perfect.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note - M rated, you know the drill :) Many thanks to Conh3 for the kind review. Longer chapters and drama ahead. Ye be warned. Happy reading! -MM**

* * *

 _"But I don't know how," she complained from her perch atop him._

 _"Bullocks. I think you do," Draco countered in a husky voice, taking her hips in his hands._

 _Lyra raised an eyebrow but guided his cock inside her all the same, humming as she did so. Despite being annoyed with him (like always), she didn't think she'd ever get used to how good that felt._

 _She took a moment to adjust and sat more firmly on top of him._

 _"Put your hands on my chest," he directed._

 _Lyra did so with a skeptical pout._

 _He smiled and pulled on her hips a bit to move her, which had the added effect of moving his prick in the process. Lyra watched his eyes roll back slightly and she was about to laugh when he pressed back on her and she gasped instead._

 _"Oh," Lyra whispered in surprise at the slight shift. It felt awesome._

 _"Rock yourself, love. That's it," he soothed as she gingerly started joining in._

 _Lyra was a little confused by the physics of the whole thing, but found herself very rapidly not giving much of a fuck. After trying a few different angles, she fell into a smooth back and forth glide that had him hitting her in all the right places. "Oh my god, baby," she said breathlessly, tossing her head back._

 _She liked being able to drive the movement and loved watching Draco experience every roll of her hips. Specifically, she enjoyed watching his eyes on her. He would look at her face, then study her breasts which were bouncing lightly from the activity and then lower his gaze down to where they were connected. He would fixate on her sex working his for a bit and then back up to her face. It was a predictable little cycle, like he couldn't decide what he liked looking at best. Lyra thought it was cute._

 _After several minutes she got totally lost in it and, in her haze, decided that she needed a little push. She urgently grabbed one of Draco's hands and brought it to her chest. He got the hint and started toying gently with her nipple. Lyra's hips twitched of their own accord and she felt her pelvic muscles constrict tightly around his erection._ _She moaned deeply and started thrusting shorter and faster. Not long now..._

"LYRA!"

She jumped and withdrew her hand from her underwear.

A loud beat came on her door, disorienting her, dissolving her happy memory and shattering her chances of an orgasm.

"Lyra, come on!" The voice shouted again.

She sighed woefully and pulled herself off the bed. She muttered curses under her breath as spelled her hands clean and grabbed her things.

Diana's impatient mug greeted her on the other side of the door to her small sleeping chamber at the tail end of Pukwudgie Hall. "What's the matter with you? We're wasting good weekend!" Her friend complained indignantly.

"Boston will still be there if we're an hour late, you know," Lyra said with a dissatisfied huff, locking her door and following her friend down the hallway.

* * *

 **March 1996  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

Draco was reliving the feeling of Lyra's fingers in his hair. She would sometimes wind them into the bit behind his ears while he ran his tongue and lips over the warm flesh of her sex. He loved feeling her quiver under his mouth and the noises she made were so sublime that the memory never failed in helping him muscle through a quick wank.

He had to be out for Quidditch practice in about fifteen, so he really needed to get on with it. He gripped himself tighter and worked faster up and down his length. He liked picturing himself tasting her, in part, because he so enjoyed everything that followed. In the last bit of her visit, they'd fallen into a little pattern with their lovemaking whereby he would lick her into a soft, soppy mess before readjusting and pushing into her with a stiff thrust. From there, he would let her body do the rest. She was perfect, after all.

"Oy, Malfoy. Get your kit. We've got practice," a voice sounded from outside the drawn curtains of his bed.

"Sod, off. I'm having a wank," he growled without hesitation.

He heard Blaise's baritone laugh in response. "Alright, mate. Carry on. Don't be late," he yelled on his way out the door.

Draco relaxed back into his task and conjured up an image of Lyra on top of him, writhing mindlessly. It had taken him an age to convince her to give it a go, but once she got a feel for it, she was incredible.

He increased his pumping speed and felt the pressure building up inside his groin. He was about done for. He focused on recalling perfectly the gentle sway of Lyra's tits as she fucked him and used the memory of her wet sheath pulsing around his cock to push him through, causing him to lacquer his hand in come. After his climax, he stared disappointed at the sticky aftermath. He wasn't shy at all of a good wank, but nothing compared to coming inside his witch.

 _Six weeks_ , he reminded himself. When the thought did little to lighten his spirits, he opted not to dwell. He cleaned up quickly and headed off to the pitch.


	27. Chapter 27

**April 1996  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

"Why Severus! You never said you had a ward!" The hideous pink woman said from behind her desk.

Severus sighed, as if bored. "I don't. She's one of Dumbledore's charity cases. Since his ouster was so sudden, I'm assuming he didn't have an opportunity to call her off. She showed up at the gates this morning, apparently," he lied smoothly.

The pink woman giggled highly. "Yes, well, he did have his many pet projects didn't he," she trilled. She narrowed her eyes venomously and focused on Lyra. "Tell me, little bird, what nasty threat has the old toad armed you with?"

Lyra blinked hard. "What?" She looked up at Snape and raised an eyebrow. "Is this for real?" She questioned, utterly confused.

"Headmistress, although I wouldn't put it past your predecessor to pull a such a stunt, I don't think that's the case. I've tutored Miss Black myself since she was eleven. Like most Americans, she's stubborn, loud, and undisciplined. The most honest endorsement I can provide for her is that she most assuredly lacks the intellect for espionage," he said with a snobbish quirk of his lips.

It took every ounce of restraint Lyra had in her body not to react to his cruel words. _Bastard..._

"Oh, dear me. An American. " she chirped with interest. "Gods only know what those brutes are teaching their savage little children."

Lyra was struck dumb by her callousness. This woman was a cunt. Lyra hated that word. She would rail against Draco when he said it, but this situation was extreme, and she found it an appropriate insult for the circumstances.

"Of course the decision is yours, Headmistress, but I see little harm in letting her sit in on some classes until arrangements can be made for her departure," Severus added.

She looked thoughtfully at Lyra for a few seconds before waiving her hand dismissively. "Very well. Nothing over fourth year classes. No potions, no dark arts, no transfiguration."

Lyra balked. The pink monster noticed.

"You are a very lucky young lady. In these halls you will likely see magic performed that you have never seen before, nor will again in your life. You will be silent, you will be tidy and you will do nothing to disturb the learning environment of our legitimate students," she chirped viciously.

Lyra swallowed her curse words and nodded. Every instinct told her to leap from her chair, and set the cow's hair on fire, but Lyra'd only just arrived and she hadn't even seen Draco yet. God, was he aware of all this bullshit going on? Why hadn't he mentioned this bitch in his letters? Severus warned her when he'd met her at the airport that there had been some noticeable changes at Hogwarts. He also told her, in no uncertain terms, to keep her mouth shut and follow his lead. With good reason, apparently. This was just awful.

"And I can see from your attire that you're of a rustic sort. I think you'll be very happy in the old gamekeeper's hut. It's been recently vacated," the Headmistress added with a smug smile.

Severus stiffened next to her but said nothing.

Lyra frowned. "Where's Mr. Hagrid gone?" She asked, concerned.

"You're dismissed," the horrible bat said sweetly to them before sipping daintily from her tea.

Snape led her quickly and quietly down to his office next to the potions laboratory. He barely had time to get the door closed behind them before Lyra erupted in rage.

"What the hell is going on here?! Where is Mr. Hagrid? Where is the Headmaster? Why is that squeaky pink psychopath making me sleep outside?!"

"Calm down," he dismissed.

"You don't have a problem with this?" She asked, incredulously.

"Of course I do, but it's out of my hands, I'm afraid. I've known that woman for a long time. The best thing to do is simply stay out of her way," he explained.

Lyra grumbled forlornly as she plunked herself down in a chair. "You know, I was actually looking forward to this. I've never been here when the rest of the students were around and now, it seems like I'm not even allowed to talk to them. I should have taken the weekend red-eye."

"Stop pouting. You'll have plenty to do until the recess starts. Then, the school will clear out and we can carry on as usual," he assured her.

"Fine. I'll just camp out with Professor Trelawney in her tower and make horoscopes," she countered. She liked the strange divination instructor and knew she would always be welcome in her class. It would be fine.

"Sybil no longer teaches here, I'm afraid. You'll have to make do with Professor Flitwick or Professor Binns I suppose," he informed her.

"What?! This is bullshit!" Lyra exclaimed.

"Madam Pomfrey loves a stray, she might take you in," he continued, ignoring her outburst.

Lyra sighed. Madam Pomfrey was alright. She'd reset Lyra's nose for her once after Draco had broken it in a snow fight. Plus, her mom would be tickled if she picked up a spell or two. Poor Marla Black just wanted one of her children to go into the healing business and she got Caelum, who preferred magical creatures and Lyra who preferred dark arts.

"Well, then I guess I'll be in my hut for the rest of the night and report to the infirmary in the morning," she said gloomily. "Do you know where Draco is?" She asked, trying to hide the longing in her voice.

Severus looked at the clock. "The Slytherin house team is screening beaters for the fall," he said evenly.

Lyra furrowed her brow in annoyance. "I have no idea what you just said."

"Quidditch pitch," he clarified.

Lyra nodded once at him stiffly and made her way for the door. She schlepped her suitcase down to the gamekeeper's quarters and muttered the passcode Snape had given her to open the door.

She had met Mr. Hagrid a time or two but never set foot inside his round little cottage. It smelled like sage and was disheveled in a warm, welcoming sort of way. It was full of books and plants and was, all in all, very cozy. She saw a rather large bed set to one side that had fresh linens on and she set her suitcase atop a large sturdy dresser.

It was early evening, about 6 o'clock and Lyra felt her stomach growl. Was she allowed to eat at the castle? Neither Severus nor the pink witch had said. She huffed stubbornly and started rummaging.

As luck would have it, Mr. Hagrid had a helluva green thumb. From his cupboard stores and the vegetable patch adjacent to his house, Lyra was able to throw together a rough vegetable stew in no time.

She was just settling in with a bowl and a steaming mug of tea when a rapid knock sounded on the door. She got up and straightened her clothes and hair in a dingy little mirror by the sink and went to the door, assuming it was Severus or Draco, and hoping for the latter.

It was neither.

"You're not Hagrid," the girl fired in a confident, almost accusatory tone.

Lyra tilted her head to one side and took in her visitor. Bushy hair, large brown eyes, olive skin, huge teeth. "No, I'm not," Lyra confirmed after a moment.

The girl furrowed her brow. "Are you from America?" She asked.

Lyra nodded. It was one of the first times someone had actually asked her where she was from instead of hurling her nationality at her as it was some kind of insult. "I'm here on exchange. I don't know where Mr. Hagrid is, sorry. I typically stay in the castle, but the Headmistress told me that I couldn't this time," she explained.

Lyra watched the girl roll her eyes at the mention of the Headmistress but then set her chin and carry on. "Hermione Granger, 5th year. Gryffindor House," she said extending her hand.

Lyra took it automatically and smiled. "Lyra Black, 5th year, Ilvermorny School, Pukwudgie House," she replied. "Would you like to come in?"

The girl nodded tightly, walking past her. She stationed herself in a red armchair and looked sadly around the room. "I'm sorry for being so forward. I was on my way back from the pitch when I saw smoke in the chimney. I was hoping Hagrid was back, no offense."

"None taken. What happened to him?" Lyra asked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Umbridge and her squad of miscreants had him chased off the grounds."

"I take it Umbridge is the Headmistress. Is she that squeaky pink monster I met this afternoon?" Lyra pressed.

The girl laughed. "Yes. She's horrid piece of work. She's a ministry drone absolutely gutting everything good there is about Hogwarts."

Lyra frowned. "I'm so sorry for you. I've been taking intervals here for years and this is a huge change from what I'm used to. I'm not allowed to sit in on anything above 4th year classes and even then I can't do anything cool. I told Professor Snape that I'd probably learn the most spending the next two days with Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione laughed dryly. "You might be right. You know, if you feel up to it, I'm sure Professor Burbage would like talking with you."

"I don't know her," Lyra replied, seeking clarification.

"Muggle Studies. I understand that in America, there's a lot more integration than we have here. You could probably teach her a thing or two. I know I have," the girl answered.

Lyra nodded. "Yeah, we don't have Nomaj or Muggle Studies at Ilvermorny. Nobody really needs it."

The girl nodded wistfully. "Must be nice," she replied.

Lyra felt a click in her brain and she suddenly recognized this girl from Draco's memories. _Granger. Know it all. Good at everything. Swotty. Mudblood._

She was direct and clearly very intelligent. Lyra liked her, Draco could fuck right off. "It is nice," Lyra replied finally, with a reassuring smile. "Why have only one world to live in when you can have two? Not that I'm one of those radicals opposed to secrecy statutes. I just think there are definitely people out there capable of bouncing back and forth in-between the two, and they're usually people I respect."

Hermione gave her a warm smile. "I completely agree." She looked down at her watch and signed heavily. "I should be off. I have loads of work to do," she said rising from her chair.

"Well, it was nice to meet you," Lyra offered, walking her the short distance to the door.

"Likewise," the girl replied.

Lyra opened the door to Draco standing on the step, preparing to knock. Lyra smiled at him. He scowled at Hermione and dropped his hand.

"Good gods, Black. There's no need to let all of your standards go to pot just because Umbridge is making you sleep in a hovel," he said sardonically.

Lyra's smile fell. She shut the door in his face and turned to Hermione. "Stay a little while longer, will you?"

Hermione smiled. "I would love to."

"Oy! Lyra! Open the door, are you mental?" Draco's angry voice sounded from outside.

"You know him?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes. He's my legilimency partner," she admitted honestly.

"You've had to read his mind?! That sounds a proper nightmare," Hermione exclaimed.

Lyra shrugged. "He's a piece of work. You get used to him though, you know...like a wart on your foot," Lyra explained with a smile.

"Lyra, don't be daft! It's raining!" Draco whined from the other side of the door.

She poured some tea for herself and her new friend. "How long do you think he'll last?" She asked playfully.

"Ten minutes," Hermione replied assuredly.

Lyra clicked her tongue. "I think you're giving him too much credit. I give him five."

Hermione laughed happily and sipped her tea.

Approximately six minutes and forty-five seconds later, a dejected Draco Malfoy trudged away from the cottage for the warmth of the castle.


	28. Chapter 28

**M rated stuff here. Happy Reading! -MM**

* * *

 **April 1996  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

Lyra spent Thursday morning with Madam Pomfrey as planned, sorting bandages and holding the hand of a Hufflepuff first year who needed some TLC while he had a rather large splinter removed.

In the afternoon, she sought out Professor Burbage as Hermione suggested and sat silently in the back of the room during the fourth year's period. It was a fascinating lesson on automobiles and how it would do you well not to stand in front of one. Calling it simple was about the greatest compliment Lyra could pay it.

The professor had a free period after the class and brought Lyra into her study for some lunch. As expected, she was very excited to meet an American and had all kinds of questions about Muggle integration. When Lyra informed her that she came from New York, the older woman literally squealed with delight and launched into a highly detailed inquiry about the subway and bridge systems.

...

Draco ducked out of charms early to drop in on Snape and see if he knew where Lyra was. He was informed by the Professor that if he ever disturbed one of his classes for such minutiae again, he would find himself hexed mute, but Draco was undeterred. Snape didn't understand the urgency of the situation, and it's not like he could tell him the truth either, that Lyra had iced him out the evening prior and was in desperate need of a good spanking. Draco grumbled his way back up the stairs, forlornly making his way back to class when he spotted her.

She was with Professor Burbage, chatting happily and waiving her hands about like she always did when she was on a tear about something. He caught a flash of silver around her wrist and realized that she was wearing the snake bangle he'd bought her for her birthday one year, and that's all it took. He needed to get her alone. Now.

He stalked up behind them, eavesdropping on their chirpy conversation about Muggle music.

"Professor Burbage," he called out politely, though he couldn't stand her. _Muggle Studies, what a load of rubbish._

They turned and Draco got an annoyed stare from Lyra and the same unassumingly daft smile that Burbage gave everybody.

"Hello, Draco. How can I help you?" She said.

"I'm here for Miss Black, actually. Professor Snape would like to see her if that's alright," he lied with finesse. He could tell immediately from her face that Lyra didn't buy it. _You in my mind, Puk?_ She was so good at it that he couldn't tell half the time.

"Not at all," the older woman answered kindly. "Lyra, do come back tomorrow won't you? I'd love to talk more about New York architecture if you're up for it."

Draco watched his witch brighten instantly at the mention of her hometown. "Of course. I'd like that," she replied.

Lyra went over to Draco, brushing his mind with her own as she did so. He was thinking roughly ' _sex, sex, spanking Lyra's naughty bum, sex and supper.'_

 _Well, he certainly gets points for consistency,_ she thought to herself, reigning in her urge to laugh.

"Thanks so much for your time, Professor" she said warmly to her as Draco led her in the opposite direction down the stone walkway.

They walked together in silence for a minute or so before Draco looked around and shoved her hurriedly into an unused classroom. He muttered a spell to lock the door and pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her hips with his own and dipping his head low to take in her cool scent.

She looked up at him with molten butterscotch eyes. "You know," she purred, her breath fanning against his chin warmly. "I think it only fair, since you were so rude to my friend last night, that I should be the one doing the spanking, don't you?"

"Stay out of my head, witch," he muttered darkly, leaning in and running his lips feather light over the sensitive skin of her neck.

Lyra hummed and arched into him. "Now why would I do that?" She teased, reaching inside his robes and untucking his shirt from his trousers. "I like knowing you inside and out," she added while running her nails down the bare skin of his back.

He hissed and ground himself into her lightly.

"Well, I'd been planning on getting to know you inside a bit last night, but you put me out, love," he jabbed, undoing the pin on her blue school robes.

Lyra laughed and let them drop to the floor. "Don't you have a class to get to?" She countered, pressing a few soft kisses to his cheek.

"Don't you have a hovel to sweep?" He pushed back.

She smiled and nipped at his bottom lip. "Be nice to me, you big bully, or you won't be invited."

"A shame indeed," he noted, edging her skirt up her legs and quickly divesting her of her underwear.

"Indeed," she echoed, reaching across to unbuckle his belt and open his trousers.

He took her waist and led her over to the large oaken teacher's desk at the front of the room, sitting her on neatly on the edge. She opened her legs for him automatically so he could step in and minimize the space between them.

While she pulled him in by the collar for a kiss, he snaked a few fingers up the caramel flesh of her thigh and dipped into her to see if she was ready. He groaned. She wasn't just ready, she was positively dripping.

He took himself out and replaced his fingers with his cock in a single smooth thrust. She was even better than he remembered. Better than his dreams.

Lyra whimpered. It stung a little, being that she hadn't had sex in some months, but she didn't care. She was with him. She could breathe again.

Draco found that as soon as he was inside her, he was stripped bare of all of his quips and clever words. There was just her in his arms, soft and real.

"Oh," she gasped as he started to move. "I missed you so much," she confessed in an airy whisper.

He pulled her forward with some pressure on her back and rested his forehead against hers as he worked. "I love you, sweetheart," he breathed.

She moaned and grabbed behind his neck to hold him to her. "Love you," she answered in a rush before fusing her mouth to his desperately.

They stayed as close as possible to each other the entire time. Lyra noted at one point that on top of an old desk may not have been the best choice of venue for their reunion, but whatever.

"I'm not going to last, love," Draco informed her in a tight rasp.

Lyra scarcely had a chance to murmur her assent before he was coming hard inside her, groaning feral into her shoulder.

He panted as he recovered, pulling back slightly to look at her. "Christ, Lyra," he sighed, taking in her flushed cheeks and wanton expression.

"More," she begged, rolling her hips urgently to stir him within her. _Right_ , he quipped to himself.

He probed her with some long slow thrusts and put a hand on her sternum to lay her back on the desk. She was wonderfully compliant in this state, willing to follow any direction that would lead her to her end.

He took his other hand and began drawing soft little circles over the engorged bud at the apex of her sex. He wanted to bring her around slowly so he could feel her climax from the inside. He loved the sensation, even if he was already spent. The gentle but insistent pull of her muscles, it felt like her body demanding him to stay, and he would do so gladly.

"Oh god, baby. Please," Lyra babbled thoughtlessly as she undulated beneath his hands.

"Please what?" He teased, pushing hard into her with his hips. It put a bit too much stimulation on his oversensitive member if he was going to be honest, but it's not like he could just stop. His girl needed him.

She whined and grabbed the hand that was pressing into her chest, relocating it to her cheek and gracelessly sticking his thumb in her mouth for something to suck on.

 _Fucking hell._ Draco made a choked noise of surprise and increased the pace of his fingers plucking at her clit.

Her eyes fluttered and her body went rigid. He felt her core come to life around his cock, contracting down on him in silky, molten waves. She broke the suction seal of her lips around his thumb and cried out. Gods, she was magnificent like this, splayed out like a feast before him. He wanted to nibble on her all day.

She relaxed back down on to the wood beneath her and looked up at him breathlessly. "So good," she muttered, stretching her arms out above her head lazily.

He smirked and leaned in to kiss her when he heard the sound of students starting to rush by in the passageway outside of the classroom. He frowned.

"You have to go," Lyra guessed with a pout.

He sighed and kissed her temple. "Afraid I do, love," he said sadly, pulling away from her.

She sat up and readjusted her clothes, missing his heat, but relishing his scent that clung to her like smoke. "Will you come see me later, at my hovel?" She asked, trying to sound indifferent.

He smiled. "I've got some things to do after classes but I'm sure the Headmistress will give me permission to skip out early if I tell her I'm going down there to get rid of some of the half-breeds old things," he said casually as he refastened his belt.

Lyra froze for a second before the anger welled in her belly. "Don't talk like that!"

Draco put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "That tosser let a bloody hippogriff nearly rip my arm off third year because he's an incompetent buffoon. I'm glad he's gone, and I'm not sorry. Umbridge got that bit right for sure."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and hopped off the desk. "Be that as it may, a person's breeding has nothing to do with their level of intelligence or buffoonery. May I remind you that Crabbe and Goyle are both purebloods and they are both hopelessly stupid," she quipped dryly.

"True, but they do as I tell them, so they have at least that much sense," he retorted.

Lyra scoffed. "What is going on here, Draco? The school, that pink-robed lunatic. I had to sit there while she called me a savage and accused me of shady dealings with Headmaster Dumbledore. She would have thrown me out the gate if Severus hadn't bravely stepped in to tell her that I'm too dumb to be a spy, " Lyra complained stepping close to him.

Draco frowned. He didn't like the sound of that, but it's not like he could do anything about it either. "I'm sorry that happened, sweetheart. Look, Umbridge is a fanatic. She's what my father would call a 'useful idiot.' All fanatics are. You can get them to bend however you'd like provided you make them believe it suits their goal," he explained. "And once you make them think you're in their service, you're pretty well untouchable and can do as you please."

"Right, so things get worse for everybody but you," she fired. "That's bullshit and you know it."

He huffed tiredly and smoothed a hand down her side. "I know that Umbridge, and my father, and all of the schemers at the Ministry are going to keep doing what they do regardless of the opinions of one fifteen year old lad egged on by the noble petitions of his American girlfriend," he replied calmly.

Lyra narrowed her eyes at him.

"By the noble petitions of his lovely and charming American girlfriend," he clarified, enfolding her loosely in his arms.

She rolled her eyes but settled naturally into the embrace. "You're patronizing me," she griped.

"Is it working?" He asked hopefully.

"No," she replied.

"Bullocks," he teased, flashing her his most handsome smile.

She fought hard, but eventually broke into a little smile.

He released her and walked over to where her robes and underwear had been discarded, retrieving them for her.

"Look, just please...no more mudblood or half-breed garbage, ok? You don't have to like everybody. But if you're gonna dislike someone, at least let it be for a reason that matters," Lyra said gently to him as he wrapped her robes around her shoulders.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"I mean that disliking Mr. Hagrid because he let you get hurt at least makes some sense. Disliking him because he's half giant or whatever doesn't make sense," she explained.

He frowned and looked away.

"You don't hate Hermione because she's muggle-born. You hate her because she beat your ass in potions last term," she said with a devilish grin as she straightened his tie for him.

"Wha..." he scoffed. "Did she tell you that?! That vile little harpy!" He fumed.

"Of course not. 'Posted better marks' was the diplomatic phrase she used, I believe," Lyra teased.

He flexed his jaw involuntarily and Lyra rose up on her toes to kiss away the agitation there. "You're so adorable when you're pouting," she purred against his skin.

"You're patronizing me," he pointed out.

Lyra quirked her lips and pulled back to look at him. "Is it working?"

"No," he answered.

"Bullocks," she teased, flashing him her prettiest smile.

He smirked. "Clever girl."

"Can you come around seven?" She asked.

"Yes, but I won't be able to stay long," he confessed.

Lyra sighed morosely. "I should never have come here early. It's been nothing but misery."

He smiled at her grumpy expression and pulled her to him. "Speak for yourself, witch. Never again will I be able to walk by this room without sporting wood," he teased. "I wonder if the Headmistress would let me buy that old desk. I bet a letter from my father would do it," he rambled, kissing down Lyra's neck.

"Ugh. Don't you have somewhere to be right now?" She quipped, shoving him away.

He laughed and grabbed his bag. "Regrettably, I do. Later, love," he said warmly, heading for the door.

"Bye baby," she said with a smile.

And then he was gone, and she was bored again.


	29. Chapter 29

**April 1996  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

Lyra saw Draco all of 15 minutes that evening. He escaped down to her hut as promised and, once inside, looked with disdain at absolutely everything but Lyra herself. With her, he was affectionate but quiet. She didn't need legilimency to know that something was up. She could have read it off of him easily enough but decided to respect the privacy of his thoughts and give him the opportunity to talk to her about it if he chose. It was this new thing her mom had made her promise to try with him called 'healthy relationship boundaries' or something. So far, she didn't much like it.

Her disappointing Thursday was followed by an equally disappointing Friday. Severus blew her off in the morning, she didn't see Draco at all, and some snobby upperclass hall monitor accosted her in the hallway, dressing her down for her attire. When Lyra informed said snob that she was an exchange student, the girl spared a few moments to badger her about her accent before returning to her clique of Slytherin harpies. Draco had often described the girls in his house as a chirping gaggle of either hens or pigeons and she found it an apt comparison.

After the events of the day, she opted for a late afternoon run to burn off some steam. When she returned to her little cottage, she opened the door to find that all of her belongings were gone. Everything. Her suitcase, her shoes, her jacket. Even the bed linens they'd given her. She sat dejectedly in the large armchair next to the cold fireplace and was overcome with a feeling of exhausted resignation. _Maybe the pink monster decided to throw me out after all. Maybe that bitchy prefect or whatever she called herself decided to have some more fun with me before break_. At this point, she really didn't care. She was just sick of feeling like a leper in a place she'd been welcome for years.

Lyra took a few minutes to swallow the lump in her throat and compose herself. She had a fireplace, she had a vegetable patch and she had her wand. She'd be fine. Everything else she could do without and she would rather get dragonpox than step one foot inside that castle until all of the jerks had cleared out. Well, all of the jerks aside from Severus and Draco of course. She supposed those particular jerks could stay.

She took a freezing cold bucket shower, spelled the sweat off of her running clothes and made a light dinner. She rummaged around a bit and found a huge trenchcoat that must have belonged to Mr. Hagrid. It smelled like garlic and earth, but Lyra didn't mind. She wrapped herself up in it and tucked into bed early feeling a little grimy but proud of her self-sufficiency. It was warmish evening, so she quelled the fire and fell quickly into a deep, satisfying sleep.

* * *

"There had better be an exceedingly good reason why you're disturbing me at this hour," Snape said bitterly to the blonde boy standing in his doorway.

"It's Lyra. She's missing," Draco said quickly, brushing the older wizard's annoyance away as if it were a superfluous butterfly.

Severus frowned. "Why would you think that?"

"She's hasn't come back to her room," he explained, as if it was obvious. "I've looked all over the castle for her. She's not here."

"Have you gone down to Hagrid's?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised.

"Gods no. It's horrid! How could you let her spend so much as five minutes in a place like that," he chastised his mentor. "I had the elves move all of her things to her room this afternoon, but she never showed."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"What?!" Draco exclaimed dramatically.

The older wizard said nothing, but disappeared back inside his apartment to change.

He decided not to apparate, so he could drag Malfoy down to the hut with him out of sheer spite. The boy complained the entire time about how awful the shack was and how they would do better to start searching the forest for her. What if she fell? What if she got lost running? What if she was laid out bleeding somewhere and attracted a werewolf.

They finally reached the round little building and it did indeed look cold and empty. Severus, for a moment, felt nervous. He had neglected Lyra entirely for the last several days. It was possible that she'd jogged off somewhere and gotten lost. Plus, she wasn't the most physically coordinated of creatures. He marched up the stairs and muttered an incantation to open the door.

He lit his wand and stepped inside. The light fell across a large bed to one side of the room and she was there, sound asleep on a bare mattress, wrapped in a dirty old coat. His heart clenched painfully at the sight. He knew she was fine, but that was his daughter. _Had she spent the entire evening thinking she'd been robbed? Why didn't she come find him?_ He sighed heavily and moved toward her.

"Lyra," he muttered.

Lyra didn't wake, but at the sound of her name Draco came barreling into the room behind Snape. He froze at the sight of his witch. No fire. No blankets. Wrapped in the jacket of a filthy half-breed oaf. It knocked the breath from his lungs and worse, it was his own doing. It was his fault.

Severus reached down and shook Lyra gently by the shoulder.

She grumbled unhappily and slowly blinked open her hazel eyes. "Is everything okay?" She asked Snape sleepily.

Draco rushed forward and knelt down next to her. "No, it most bloody well is not okay," he argued in a strained whisper.

Lyra frowned and reached out to touch his face. "What happened?"

Draco balked. "What do you mean what happened? What are you doing like this?!" He fired, taking her hand and pulling her up into a seated position. His stomach dropped again when he saw that she was wearing only her running clothes because that's all she had left after he'd had her things moved.

"Somebody took my stuff," she admitted. "Is the Headmistress making me leave?" She asked Snape who frowned mightily.

"Your things are in the castle, sweetheart. I had the elves move them to your room this afternoon," Draco explained, voice thick with shame.

"Oh," Lyra said softly. "I didn't know."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly.

"It's ok," she replied, not meeting his eyes.

He ran his hand over the gentle wave of her black hair. "Umbridge is gone to London," he said to soothe her. "You can come back."

Severus watched her nod stiffly. He could feel her hesitation. She locked eyes with him and he gave her a reassuring nod. He didn't begrudge her resistance and, to a limited extent, he was heartened by it. In two days of living in the outskirts she'd deducted what so many others, Draco included, were desperate to deny. That Hogwarts was becoming less open, less kind and less safe.

Lyra got to her feet and hung Hagrid's coat back on it's hook. A wind had picked up overnight and Lyra shivered as they made their way up the path leading back to the castle.

Draco went to take his sweatshirt off for her but Snape beat him to the punch and enveloped her in his billowing black cloak. Lyra snuggled into the silky fabric. It smelled like parchment and potions. Like Severus. It was comforting. Lyra recalled his memory of her as a baby, tucked safely under his arm, away from the cold and the snow. Maybe it was her memory too.

When they reached the Great Hall, Lyra stopped and turned to them. "I know my way. Thanks guys," she said, making to shrug the cloak from her shoulders.

"Give it back tomorrow," Snape informed her, almost kindly. "Goodnight," he said before turning on his heel and starting down the hallway. "Malfoy, if you aren't back in the dungeons in ten minutes, I'll send Peeves to drag you back by your ankles," he called over his shoulder.

Lyra grinned after him and Draco scowled. "It's okay. I'm tired anyhow and dying for a real shower," she said with a yawn.

Draco grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss along her knuckles. "You smell like onions," he muttered, flipping her hand and ghosting his lips across the pads of her fingers.

She gave him an exasperated look and withdrew her hand. "You took all of my stuff without my permission and your groveling begins with 'you smell like onions?' You have some work to do, kid," she informed him plainly.

He deflated. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Truly. My day was loaded with class and errand boy bullocks for the Inquisitorial Squad. I caught an elf and told him to move your things up as soon as Umbridge left. It didn't occur to me that you'd stay in that hovel a moment longer than necessary," he fired in a rush.

Lyra cocked her head to one side. "Inquisitorial Squad?"

"It's nothing," he dismissed. "Wait a tic. Why exactly did you stay in that hovel longer than necessary? You could have gotten fleas...or worse. Further, if you had thought your things stolen, why wouldn't you come in and report it?!"

"Because I don't feel welcome here anymore," she hissed in annoyance. "Outside of Madam Pomfrey, Hermione and Professor Burbage, I've been either totally ignored or singled out and insulted. You know one of your Slytherin pigeons got to me today? Told me my robes make me look like a blueberry and my accent makes me sound like a troll. Headmaster Dumbledore is gone, Professor Trelawney is gone, Mr. Hagrid is gone and you and Severus were too busy."

Draco frowned.

"I get that you have a lot going on, but you couldn't be bothered to spare a few minutes introducing me to any of the dozens of people I know from your own memories? It felt deliberate, if I'm going to be honest. It felt intentional," She continued.

"Have you been reading me?" He asked with an edge.

"No," she answered honestly. "And I was hoping I wouldn't have to. I mean...who are you right now? Do I know you?" She asked, stepping closer and searching his face for answers.

Draco sighed. "Of course you know me, but it's not that simple, love. I can't...be myself around these people. I have to be what they expect me to be."

"What do they expect you to be?" She asked.

"You know," he muttered to her, not meeting her eyes.

Lyra nodded. She did know. It had been ever-present in his mind since they were children. He had to be a Malfoy first and then he could be whoever he really was when he was behind closed doors. When no one important was looking. Did that make Lyra no one important?

"No, of course not!" Draco protested, plucking the phrase from her thoughts. "I love you. You know what you mean to me."

Tears welled in her eyes and she looked away self-consciously.

He took her chin softly in one hand and brought her gaze back to his. "You know. Say it," he pressed gently.

"Freedom," she whispered.

He gave her a little smile and brought his other hand to her face. Cupping it, he made to pull her in for a kiss but was suddenly ripped away from her by an unseen force and spirited down the dark hallway.

It happened so quickly that it took Lyra a good second to react to it. She heard Peeves's laughter and bolted down the passageway after the Poltergeist and her screaming boyfriend.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Muahahahaha...that is all. -MM


	30. Chapter 30

**April 1996  
** **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Scotland**

She cursed Severus in the most colorful language she possessed as she raced down the stairs to the dungeons, which Peeves seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

They moved past the potions lab, past Severus's office and down into the true bowels of the castle. Lyra had never been this far before. Her legs were tiring rapidly and Draco was getting further away. In an instant, Lyra found herself stopped suddenly by the instantaneous appearance of iron bars in front of her. She grabbed on and shook them, emitting an enraged roar.

"Goodnight, Miss Black," Snape's smug monotone sounded from somewhere beyond the black metal in front of her.

Lyra growled and pushed off the bars angrily. She complained her way back down the long corridor and up the winding steps. She had almost made it to her own wing when she had an idea...

"Baron?" She called out.

Seconds later, Lyra's favorite ghost appeared through the stone wall to her left.

"Good evening, my dear. You're up late," he said to her.

Lyra schooled her face into a mask of distress and let a pool of tears fill her big hazel eyes. "Peeves. He took Draco. I tried to follow them down past the potions lab but these bars appeared and I don't know where he is. I'm so worried about him. Will you please help me?"

The Baron gave an annoyed sigh. "He is such a nuisance. Wait here. I will return shortly," he said before melting back into the wall.

Lyra paced around until he returned. "Did you find him? Where is he?" She asked in a tense voice. Lyra more or less knew where he was, but the Baron didn't know that and she needed his help.

"I assure you, young lady. Mr. Malfoy is just fine. Peeves dropped him in the Slytherin Common Room where he is angrily moping about, saying some very unkind things about Professor Snape," the ghost reassured her.

Lyra made a big show of sighing in relief and then frowned sadly.

"Whatever is the matter, young lady? Isn't that good news?" The Baron asked gently.

"Yes, of course it is. I just..." Lyra trailed off sighing forlornly.

"You what?" The ghost pressed.

"I was planning on telling him something important," Lyra said quietly.

"Would you like me to give him a message for you?" He offered.

Lyra smiled sweetly at him. "That's terribly kind of you Baron, but no. It's not the kind of thing one should deliver via messenger." She sighed. "I was going to tell him..." she hesitated for dramatic effect. "I was going to tell him that I love him and now I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve," she lied shrewdly.

She turned her back to the spectre and huffed. "You must think I'm so stupid," she said, letting a fake tear drop down her cheek.

The ghost floated around to face her and regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and fondness. "No, my dear. I don't think that," he told her.

Lyra looked up at him warmly. "That means a great deal to me," she said and then turned, as if to continue on to her room. "Goodnight."

She walked a few slow steps, hoping to hear...

"Young lady, wait," he said.

She stopped and turned. "Yes, Baron?"

"Let me help you," he replied.

"Help me, how?" She asked in genuine interest.

The ghost furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. Suddenly, his eyebrows raised and he seemed to make some kind of decision. "Peeves!" He called out authoritatively. "Peeves come here at once!"

The torches in the passageway flickered menacingly, indicating his arrival. The Baron and Peeves shared a wordless conversation but Lyra felt the Poltergeist leave.

"What is he doing?" Lyra whispered to the Baron.

"He is going to get us something that will allow you passage into the Slytherin Common Room so you can tell Mr. Malfoy how you feel," he informed her.

Lyra was speechless. She had just been hoping he would go guilt Severus into letting Draco leave or maybe he would make the bars disappear so she could find the entry door and wail on it until Draco came out. The Baron's plan was MUCH better. Lyra adored him. He was the greatest ghost of all time.

The torches flickered again and Lyra squinted in confusion as an old, pointed hat came levitating down the corridor.

"What is that?" She asked.

"That is precisely what we need," he answered. "Now, when it's placed on your head I simply want you to tell it that you would really like to enter Slytherin House."

"You want me to tell the hat?" She asked, puzzled.

"Yes," he replied.

"I can do that," she shrugged.

The hat floated over and settled lightly on her head. It then abruptly came to life, speaking in a cheerful little voice that seemed to feed directly into her brain.

"What's this then? Odd time of year for a sorting, if I say," the hat remarked. "Well, it's not like I was busy, so what have we here...a Snape?! Oh yes, from the Prince line, isn't that something! Mmm...funny kind of Snape though, isn't it? Brave, very brave. Definitely an intelligence there. Extroverted, now that's very unusual for a Snape it is, and...it...there it is, fine bit o'cunning too in there. That's a tough sort, I'd say. What do you say, Lily Snape?"

Lyra balked. "Uh...I'd really like to enter Slytherin house?" She said mentally to it, utterly confused.

The hat shuffled on top of her head a bit. "Yeah, that would do right well, I suppose," it said.

Lyra jumped in surprise as the hat bellowed "SLYTHERIN!" aloud and then promptly flipped off the top of her head into her hands. Peeves snatched the hat from her and floated it back from whence it came.

"Congratulations my dear," the Baron said to her, beaming proudly.

"Thanks?" Lyra said.

"You are free to enter the common room as you wish. The bars will still appear, but you will be able to walk through them. Continue on to the circular door, wait for it to be enwreathed in green flame and then speak the words "Arnathh Asifianthh," he explained, hissing the password to her.

"Arnathh Asifianthh," Lyra practiced.

"Very good," he answered.

Lyra smiled at him. "Thank you, Baron. Will you walk with me?"

"I would be honored," he replied, floating alongside her as she made her way back down to the dungeons.

"I think it would be prudent to avoid sharing with anybody the nature of my assistance to you this evening. While certainly magically binding, your means of acquiring access to Slytherin House is somewhat...unorthodox," the Baron said to her as they started down the long hallway towards the common.

"I believe you," Lyra said with a laugh. "You have my word that I will leave out the details."

"I thank you," he replied, with a little bow.

Lyra couldn't explain it, but she felt an almost palpable bond of loyalty and understanding pass between them and she knew implicitly that she would keep her word to him for the rest of her life.

The iron bars appeared in front of them and Lyra felt a chill, like a cool mist cover her body as she passed through them. They continued on and Lyra saw the door. It was extraordinary. It was a huge circle of dark gray stone covered in twisting serpents that were gilded in silver with huge emerald eyes that winked at her in the firelight. The Baron instructed her to stand precisely in front of it. When she did so a flare of green flames ignited at the top of the circular entrance that then flowed rapidly into a channel around the structure. After a second or two the entire door was ringed by rich green fire.

"Arnathh Assifianthh," Lyra hissed into the damp air.

"Saranathh Souschanthh," a voice whispered back to her. The flames burned brighter for a moment and all of the serpents on the stone face animated and slithered into the flames. Lyra gasped and the door swung open with a groan.

Draco was pouting forlornly on the overstuffed sofa next to the giant fireplace when he heard the common room door swing open.

"You know, Professor. That imp pulled me away from her right as she was trying to tell me how alone and unwelcome we made her feel these last few days. I don't even want to imagine what she must be feeling now," he griped, dropping his chin into his hand.

"Draco," Lyra called to him from the top of the stone stairs that led down into the room.

He jumped and turned to look at her. She locked eyes with him and flew down the steps. She was still wearing Snape's black cloak and it flew behind her in rather dramatic fashion as she ran to him, billowing elegantly and exposing her bare legs. He always thought Snape looked like a stuffy penguin wrapped up like he always was, but not Lyra. She made it something worth watching.

He hurried to meet her at the bottom of the stairs and she pitched herself into his arms.

He held her closely to him, breathing in the scent of her hair mingled with the smell of potions that clung to the black fabric around her. Draco looked over her shoulder and saw the Baron watching them from the doorway as the door closed slowly behind her. He was a bloody good ghost. Maybe the best ever.

"How are you here?" He asked, banding his arms more tightly around her little waist. "Did the Baron help you?"

Lyra nodded and nuzzled her face into his neck.

"How?" Draco pressed.

Lyra pulled back and looked up at him. "I have absolutely no idea," she answered honestly.

"Good enough for me," he chuckled before crashing his lips to hers to give her a good, proper snog.

They made out for awhile until Lyra demanded a break so that she could clean up in the girl's bathroom.

She emerged wearing only the green oversized Quidditch shirt he'd given her which sent almost all of the blood in his body rushing south for his groin.

"Come here," he called to her from his spot on the long leather bench that sat in front of the largest cathedral window in the room. It looked out onto the depths of the lake and faintly illuminated the immediate area with a pale silver light. Draco had dragged his quilt and silk comforter out into the common and made them a little makeshift bed on the bench. It wasn't ideal, but the wards on the dormitories made it impossible for her to come into his room.

Lyra climbed in next to him and snuggled her way under his arm.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, wrapped them up in the silken fluff of his comforter and both of them were sound asleep within minutes.

* * *

Severus woke early feeling unsettled. He considered that maybe having a maniacal Poltergeist drag Malfoy down into the dungeons while Lyra chased him helplessly was perhaps a bit much. Perhaps.

He dressed and trudged over to the common room to make sure Peeves hadn't done anything awful like suspend the boy upside down from the ceiling overnight.

He uttered the password and stepped through the door as it swung open. He looked around the room for signs of disturbance and initially saw none. He was about to return to his flat for some tea when he spotted the untidy mess of blankets on the bench in the far corner. As he approached it he saw the unmistakable shock of Draco's white hair and rolled his eyes. He had practically reached him when he noticed that Malfoy wasn't alone.

The crown of Lyra's head was tucked neatly under his chin. Her thick black hair was braided and flopped carelessly over her shoulder and on to Malfoy's chest.

Severus shook his head and leaned forward to put an end to their improper canoodling when he paused for a moment to ponder just how exactly his daughter was able to get past the multiple layers of magical security and gain entrance to the Slytherin common coom.

"Professor, a word, if you don't mind," a soft voice came from behind him.

He turned to see the typically mute ghost of his house. Frowning, he ventured over to the fireplace where the spectre hovered.

"Baron," he said, inclining his head politely.

"It's a cruel thing, professor. To separate two people who love one another, wouldn't you say?" The Baron mused wistfully.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"She's an impressive young woman. Polite and kind but also very surprising. This evening, she attempted to manipulate me into helping her get to young Mr. Malfoy there and so inspiring was her deception that I found myself actually willing to do it," the ghost chuffed, switching tactics.

"And in so doing, violating over a millennium of house secrecy and tradition," Snape noted darkly.

"Rubbish. I did no such thing," the ghost retorted.

"Then how did the girl come to be in this room?" Snape pressed.

"I see a great deal of you in her. The intellect, the romantic nature. You must be very proud," the Baron deflected. "I never had children of course, but my Helena's mother once told me that having her daughter sorted into her own house was one of the most validating and rewarding experiences of her life."

Snape opened his mouth to retort but froze when he took in the ghost's meaning. He stopped breathing and looked over at his daughter, fast asleep under Malfoy's arm. His heart started beating erratically in his chest and he felt so strange.

"You were going for tea, wasn't it, professor?" The ghost offered helpfully, ushering the stunned wizard from the common room and seeing him safely back to his flat.

* * *

For the latter part of her stay, Lyra was scarcely left alone long enough to use the toilet. Draco spent every possible moment with her. Next to her, holding her. He would even wake her sometimes in the night to lazily make love to her, falling back to sleep only when he was spent and cradled tightly in her arms. It was sweet, and she would never turn down a midnight romp, but she could feel the tension coming off of him in waves. It puzzled her. She brushed against his mind in those moments and felt...it was hard to place, but it tasted to her like pressure. Not the good kind, but the kind that squeezes the life out of you and makes you want to run, to disappear.

"Baby?" She asked him on one such night, before he drifted off in her embrace.

"Mmm?" He hummed in response.

"Tell me what's wrong."

He lifted his head off her chest and looked down at her with a frown. Instinctively, he wanted to rebuff her. Tell her nothing was the matter and then curl back into her, but she knew him too well for that and it just wouldn't do.

She ran her fingers through his white hair. "You're so tense...your emotions. It reads like you're being battered on all sides. I don't like it," she told him.

He sighed and dropped down to press a lingering kiss to her neck. He pulled back and inhaled deeply, fixating his eyes on the little lines of worry that appeared in between her eyebrows.

"I've just got a lot going on right now, sweetheart. OWLs, Quidditch and all that. Plus my father is being..." he trailed off, making a face.

"Being what?" She pressed, smoothing her hand down the back of his neck.

"He's being himself, I suppose," he muttered, distracted. His father was being himself, that was true. It was merely becoming clear to Draco that, before the Dark Lord's return, he had never seen his father be himself...and his father was not at all who he thought he was.

"Are you unhappy?" She asked softly.

"Sometimes," he answered honestly. "But not with you. You make me very happy," he told her.

Lyra blushed prettily at his words and rewarded him with a small smile.

"I'm sorry about before. I should have sought you out, included you. It wasn't my intention to make you feel unwelcome. I just...there's the part of my life that feels like work and there's you and I just wanted to keep you separate from it. You see...I don't think you'd like Draco Malfoy very much in front of his classmates," he admitted nervously.

"I love you. I know what you are...and I love you anyway," she whispered up at him soothingly. He was a bully, a spoiled brat and occasionally a bigot. He was all of those things and she loved him still.

He threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her. "I know what you are too, and I love you anyway," he breathed against her lips before claiming her mouth again. She was stubborn, unpolished and could be frustratingly naive at times. She was all of those things but he loved her irrevocably.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Lyra is officially a low key Slytherin now. This is really in no way related to the greater plot but I dreamed this up a week or so ago and fell in love with the idea. Let me know what you think. Also, the Baron is referring to Helena Ravenclaw (who he murdered). Her mother was Rowena Ravenclaw, the founder of the house. Rowena tasked the Baron with going to eastern europe to find her and bring her home. In my mind, during their conversations about why Rowena wanted Helena to come home, she would have confided in him the bit about being proud that her daughter was a Ravenclaw too. Happy reading! -MM


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note - Hi everybody! Sorry for the delay. Short one here. Happy reading! -MM**

* * *

 **June 1996**  
 **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**  
 **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

Lyra was watching her classmates meander down to the tents at the waters edge. They were elegantly dressed and walking in pairs to the promenade like fancy little ducklings.

She was nestled comfortably in a leather arm chair that she'd moved in front of her favorite window in the library, overlooking the cobbled path down to the lake. She saw a flash of Diana's crimson gown shimmering under the fairy lights and it made her smile.

Lyra had decided not to go to the Solstice Formal. She had enough to do before she went home to Brooklyn next week without the added stress of finding a dress and a date. She'd elected to do some extra Dark Arts studies for her Auror training package which had her hitting the books even though all of her exams were finished. And that was in addition to the veritable mountain of things Severus had sent ahead for her to read. All in all, she felt fine about her decision to forgo the dance in exchange for a quiet Saturday night with a mug of tea and a scroll in her lap.

She wondered a moment if Hogwarts had a ball at the end of term, she'd never asked Draco. _God, I bet he's gorgeous in dress robes_ , she quipped absently to herself before diving into her reading.

* * *

 **June 1996  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Wizarding Scotland**

 _Draco was at home in Wiltshire. He was standing in front of the windows in the main receiving room but it looked...different. Clear sunlight streamed brightly through the glass and the black draperies he was used to had been replaced by panels of sheer cream that looked quite nice against the pale stone walls._

 _Before he could really analyze what was going on, his concentration was upended by an odd squealing noise. He turned around and saw his mother sitting in a chair by the large fireplace. She was bouncing an impatient infant on her lap and cooing to it softly. Draco frowned and moved closer. Gods, what was this then? Some random new cousin he was expected to give a fig about? He rolled his eyes and checked his watch to see if he could make some plausible excuse to retreat to his room before supper...or tea...or anything really._

 _"Did you just roll your eyes at our baby, Malfoy?," Lyra said with a laugh, her amused voice ringing out clear from the chair across from his mother. He hadn't even seen her. She looked grown and so beautiful...wait a tic...did she say...their...what? His eyes snapped back to the child, who was now babbling happily in its own little language._

 _Her black hair, his gray eyes. Theirs. His feet moved on their own to where his mother sat. She gave him a sweet smirk and handed him his son...or daughter. He found that despite his aristocratic background, in the moment, he had absolutely no preference. The baby felt warm and soft in his arms. It looked up at him with his own eyes and reached for his face with its chubby little hands._

 _As a rule, Draco hated babies. That being said, Draco definitely did not hate this baby. This was an excellent baby. Maybe the best ever._

 _"Malfoy," Lyra said to him._

 _The baby laughed._

 _"Malfoy," she repeated more urgently._

 _The baby started to cry._

"Malfoy!" Snape called, shaking his shoulder forcefully.

Draco blinked his eyes open. Lyra and the baby were gone and he felt...crushed. He was in bed in his dormitory, his body spooned protectively around a spare pillow. He frowned up at the Professor standing over him.

"Come with me," Snape said seriously.

They made their way to the headmaster's office. It had to be three or four in the morning. Draco was still half lost in the memory of his dream and had no idea what was going on. When they emerged into the large room, Draco was surprised to see his mother standing in front of the fireplace chatting with an old wizard in inky blue robes that he'd never seen before.

"Mother?" He said to her.

Her eyes caught his and he knew something was terribly wrong.

"Draco," she said gently, coming over to him and kissing his cheek. The old wizard followed, but maintained a respectable distance.

"Mum, what is it? What's wrong?" He questioned anxiously.

"Your father has been wrongfully arrested by those fools at the Ministry," she said clearly, with a dismissive sort of confidence. If Draco didn't know her tells, he might have believed she wasn't absolutely petrified.

"Arrested? On what grounds? That's absurd!" He spat, instantly summoning his a fierce indignant rage. It's what people would expect him to do. What he really felt though, was fear. Fear and confusion. _What had his father been up to?_

"On baseless accusations, of course," she countered. She turned back to the old wizard standing behind her. "This is Mr. Eldridge. He's a fine solicitor and he and his team will make sure that all of this is dealt with properly," she said with a curt nod at the man.

Draco gave him a firm handshake and offered some insincere words of gratitude as he had been taught.

"What can I do?" He asked his mother privately. "How can I help?"

Her mask faltered for a moment and she leaned in to whisper to him. "I want you to come home. Now."

He pulled back with a frown. Term was over next week. His exams were done, so he hardly figured it would matter. "Of course," he muttered back.

He didn't know what had gone on, but he could feel in his bones that it was bad.


	32. Chapter 32

**July 1996**  
 **Malfoy Manor**  
 **Wiltshire, England**

Draco rushed his mother through the crushing glut of reporters and photographers that packed the atrium at the Ministry of Magic. He scowled haughtily and sneered at anyone who dared lob a question in their direction. After guiding her safely to the floo, they emerged into the sitting room at the manor where his mother promptly burst into heartbroken tears. He swallowed thickly and pulled her to him, letting her cry into the thick fabric of his best suit.

His father had just been carted off to Azkaban for breaking into some secure department at the ministry and being blatantly exposed as a Death Eater. The resulting chaos, caused by the confirmation of the Dark Lord's return, found Lucius's army of lawyers neutralized by the general panic and without intervention, his father would be in prison until his graduation.

The endstate of it all was that his family's reputation had been eviscerated. Even those sympathetic to the cause would recoil from them publicly, at least for now. His mother had been in overdrive since the arrest, making overtures and donations, but found herself shunned at social events. Even her financial support was unwelcome. She was crushed and seeing her treated so callously absolutely tore Draco apart.

He felt the venom bubbling in his gut. Whatever his father had been tasked to do would have been no problem without the meddlesome intervention of Saint Potter and his band of prattlefucks. It had been a particularly bad night. Of those involved, only the Dark Lord and his Aunt Bellatrix had escaped the Aurors.

Speaking of, it wasn't just publicly that the Malfoy name had been sullied. The Dark Lord had visited their home shortly after Lucius's capture and had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that the oldest Malfoy was an abominable failure and that the Dark Lord wouldn't conjure so much as a gentle southern wind to free him from prison. Draco figured that, at this point, Azkaban was probably a safer place for his father considering the Dark Lord's wrath.

When his mother's sobbing ebbed to sniffles, he released her with a kiss on the forehead and practically fled for the peace of his bedroom in the north wing. His legs gave out the moment the door shut behind him and he slid gracelessly down to the floor.

Gone. Everything was gone. Generations of power and influence evaporated in a single night. He was about to come of age as an heir to nothing but a hollow mountain of gold. _Like a lonely gnome king gone mad_ , he quipped, almost deliriously. Draco had learned from his father that wealth without influence is the lowest condition there is next to poverty. Wealth without influence is a gilded cage. Wealth without influence has no ability to accumulate more wealth, so eventually even the gilded cage will crumble and there will be nothing but a legacy of failure and ruin.

Without his social standing, the most precious of all currencies, he had nothing. He was nothing.

He dropped a few silent tears into his lap over his predicament but was abruptly snapped back to the present by the tink of an owl's beak against his window. He frowned at it but snapped his fingers to open the glass. The owl hopped over to him and deposited a small stack of letters indifferently into his lap before taking flight and leaving him alone once more. He looked down at the envelope and saw Snape's elegant script. He sighed and opened it without enthusiasm.

 **Mr. Malfoy,**  
 **Miss Black and I will be working intensively on her preparations for Auror trials over her interval this summer and it's my preference that I focus solely on her training. I hope you'll understand. Take care of your mother and do give her my best.**  
 **Professor Snape  
P.S. - We won't be spending much time at the castle over the week, in case you were planning on just showing up.**

He read the letter a few times trying to make sense of the words and control his temper but it was no good. He lept up and was just about to shred the entire stack when he recognized Lyra's handwriting on the letter below. He tore into it immediately.

 **Hey Baby,**  
 **So...any idea why Severus is in soldier mode right now?**  
 **Apparently, he's going to put me through the ringer with some pre-Auror training and we won't be at the castle. He's expressly forbidden me from seeing you or telling you where I'll be. 'No distractions,' he says. Has he lost his mind? He's lost his mind, right? You can tell me.**  
 **I love you,**  
 **Lyra  
** **P.S. - Anyway, I most definitely won't be at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley on August 20th...which you know is also my birthday. Nope. I won't be there or anything.** **  
**

The sting of Snape's dismissal of him stuck in his chest and made him clench his teeth. He was beyond furious at the hook-nosed weasel for trying to keep his witch from him, but Snape also had a reputation to protect and he, unlike Lucius and Draco by extension, was still in favor with the Dark Lord.

Draco felt miserable. Miserable, empty and lost. He wanted his mother to stop crying. He wanted Lyra. He wanted the world to make sense again.

He dropped his hands to his sides and started pacing.

As far as British wizarding society was concerned, Draco was essentially persona non grata. His post-graduate aspirations were now useless, his family's business relations were evaporating at a steady pace and his prospects for a powerful marriage alliance were essentially kaput. What could he do? He could crawl on his knees before the Dark Lord and beg for forgiveness. He could go sniveling to Dumbledore and be inducted into his self-righteous gaggle of fuckwits...or maybe...

Maybe he didn't have to grovel. Maybe he didn't have to choose. Everything is about perspective, right? Being thrown from the social ladder meant no more power, but it also meant no more rules. No more being told where to go, what to believe, who to marry.

He looked down at Lyra's letter and felt...something. It was the spark of an emotion he hadn't felt in a long while. Hope.

If Draco was a nobody, maybe he could be a nobody with a sizable trust fund, a decent intellect and the love of a good witch. A nobody with a stunning girlfriend. A nobody who might one day get to hold a baby with his gray eyes and her black hair.

He read her postscript again and did something he hadn't done in a month. He smiled.

* * *

 **Author's Note - I encourage you to read my original fic called The Pawn (which is sort of a sequel to this one) to see how things work out for Draco. :) Please follow/fav/review and happy reading!** **-MM**


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note - Hey everybody! Sorry for the delay. Short one here to segue into some fun. Please fav/follow/review! :) -MM**

* * *

 **August 1996  
The Leaky Cauldron  
Wizarding London, England**

"Severus, come on!" Lyra exclaimed dramatically.

"No," he replied without emotion.

"But why?! I'm leaving in two days and I've done everything you've asked me to do this whole trip. My head is about to explode from so much wandless legilimency and I am fairly confident I have a hernia from climbing those hills in Yorkshire," she argued.

Snape rolled his eyes dismissively.

"We camped. You made me camp. In the north. In the rain," she explained in a very serious tone, eyebrows raised for effect.

He quirked his lips in amusement.

"But it's my birthday," she pouted. "Please?"

Severus frowned. It was indeed her birthday. Some years he would forget entirely, buried in research or some odd work for Albus. It was odd. She was his daughter, and yet she wasn't in so many of the ways it truly mattered. From her memories, he knew that she had a father in America who adored her. A father who would never forget her birthday. Who would never give her up. Who, presumably, would never be in a position where he had to. That was the idea behind her adoption, afterall.

He shook the melancholy thoughts from his head and sighed heavily. "You will stay in Diagon Alley and you will be back to your room by 8pm, ready to train early tomorrow morning."

Lyra squealed with glee.

"Stop," he muttered with distaste.

"Thank you!" She replied sweetly before draining her coffee and gathering her suitcase to lug it up the stairs to her rented room above the pub.

* * *

 **August 1996  
Diagon Alley  
Wizarding London, England**

After a much needed shower and change of clothes, Lyra set out for the owlery so she could let Draco know she was free. She took her time, strolling slowly down the alley, enjoying the feeling of having people around her. Lyra liked the wilderness, she really did, but the last week in near silence with Severus had her feeling lonely and on edge. Her training had been brutal, which she expected, but his brooding had been worse than normal and she needed a change.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of the bustling street. Parchment, fresh bread, new clothes, toasted almonds. It smelled like Brooklyn. It smelled like home.

Draco was leaning against the wooden entryway to the Quidditch outfitters, watching his oblivious little witch smell the alley with a sweet smile on her face. Even from a distance, he could taste her thoughts. _Excited. Hungry. Draco. Happy._

He smirked and pitched himself into the crowd. He quietly narrowed the distance between them as she mulled over a hodge-podge bin full of flannels outside of a shop. Unable to wait any longer, he stationed himself close behind her and reached out.

Lyra absently ran her hand along the thick, soft fabric in front of her and suddenly found her fingers tangled with someone else's. She gasped and made to pull back, but the other hand wouldn't let go. In an instant, there was the gentle pressure of someone holding her waist and the rich smell of sandalwood filled her nose. _Draco._ She felt his breath on the shell of her ear which started her heart thundering in her chest.

"I found you," he muttered playfully.

Lyra huffed and leaned back in to him, tucking the crown of her head into her favorite spot under his chin.

"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart," he muttered before pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head.

"Thank you," she replied, turning around in his arms and smiling brightly up at him.

He brought one hand to cup her cheek and ran his thumb back and forth along her cheekbone. "Hungry?"

She leaned in to his touch. "God, I love you," she said sweetly.

He smiled handsomely and steered her in the direction of his favorite bistro.

* * *

"I am not eating that," Lyra said resolutely to her snobby boyfriend.

"Why not? It's my favorite," he argued, popping another into his mouth. "It's very posh."

"It's a snail," Lyra said slowly, as if he was simple.

He smiled. "You're no fun at all."

She scoffed. "I'm super fun!"

He hummed and studied the way the light in the room brought out the subtle caramel tones in her dark hair. He was still surprised sometimes by how much he loved her. How the littlest thing about her could quell his near constant anger and soothe his mind.

"I'm the one begging her snail-eating, wet blanket of a boyfriend to go dancing on her own birthday," Lyra continued.

He groaned and leaned back in the booth they shared. She'd been pestering him the entire meal.

"It's a simple request!" She argued.

"It's Muggle London! Could you dream up anything more torturous?" He argued incredulously.

"Please?" She begged.

"We can dance anywhere. In a hotel room, perhaps?" He suggested deviously. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Well, first of all, Nomaj clubs are the most fun. And second of all...", she hesitated and looked down. "I just want the moment, you know? To be all dressed up and have you in my arms in a crowded room so people can see that...that you're mine," she told him, a fierce blush painting her cheeks. "I know it seems stupid..." she began.

"It's not stupid, love," he replied softly.

She glanced up at him hopefully and watched the wheels turn in his mind.

"I'll do it on one condition," he said.

Her face lit up. "Yes! What?"

He lifted his fork to her face, a small round of escargot skewered on the tip.

Lyra paled and took a long swig from her wine. "You're the worst," she stated plainly.

"Correct," he replied with a smile.


	34. Chapter 34

**August 1996  
Muggle London, England**

"You will come out of there in the next 30 seconds or by all the gods, woman, I will drag you out," Draco protested outside of the bathroom.

Little witch had some nerve. She'd forced him out into Muggle London, made him go shopping, paid practically no attention to the lavish hotel suite he'd secured for her and, to top it all off, she'd sequestered herself inside of the washroom to dress. He'd been waiting on her for almost an hour. Unjust and inhumane, it was. He sighed morosely and sipped on his scotch.

"Why don't you watch TV? Use the remote. It's the little black thing with the buttons that I showed you," Lyra replied from the other side of the door.

"Because it's absolute rubbish! No wonder so many Muggles have mush for brains," he fired, picking a minuscule piece of lint from the lapel of his black jacket.

He heard her scoff and it made him quirk his lips in amusement. There were few things he loved more than pestering her, and it was a skill at which he positively excelled. He drained his drink and walked over to the minibar to deposit his glass.

"With the amount of bellyaching you do, I can guarantee that you would be a fool for British melodrama. Look out, MacBeth, Lord Malfoy is here and he has an opinion," Lyra said with a smile in her voice as she stepped through the door.

Draco whipped around to retort but lost his comeback the moment he saw her.

She wore a formfitting dress in flat black. It had a tasteful boatneck, long sleeves and stopped at midthigh. Her hair was styled in a sophisticated bun set low off to one side. Cascades of gold and garnet red dangled from her ears, matching the cuff bracelets she wore at each wrist.

Being of a certain class, Draco had of course been tutored in the elements of style. Unlike some of his less fortunate mates who were mindlessly hammered into dark suits by their etiquette coaches, Draco had been educated in the subtlety of high fashion and quality dressing by his own mother. Narcissa Malfoy was unmatched in her good taste, and she'd raised her son to be equally discerning. His learned critique of Lyra's outfit was that it was elegant perfection.

Her hazel eyes burned like dragonfire from the dark shadow she'd used and her lips were spelled a delicious deep red. He'd never seen her like this before. She could have been any one of his debutante classmates. She was just as well dressed and easily more beautiful than any of them.

She walked to him, her eyes roaming hungrily over his body. "Well, you're fucking gorgeous," she stated bluntly, running her hand lightly across his chest. "It's almost offensive." In no great surprise, he too was wearing black. She would tease him occasionally about his proclivity for the color, but had a hard time picturing him in tweed or khaki. They would be a matched set tonight, and it made her buzz with satisfaction and pride.

She wound her arms around his neck, locating the fine hairs at his nape with precision and teasing at them with her nails.

He reached out for her and started when his palms came into contact with smooth, bare flesh instead of fabric.

Lyra gasped and arched into him as he let a hand wander experimentally down her spine.

"Turn around," he breathed to her.

She untangled herself from him and complied, a devious little smirk on her face.

"Bloody hell, sweetheart," he said in a thick rasp. Her dress was completely backless and cut so low that he could see the dimples on her lower back that he adored. "Are you using magic to keep this thing on?" He asked, amused.

He watched a blush creep down her skin and moved in to catch it with his lips, kissing along her neck and shoulders.

"Just a little," she said meekly, leaning into his kisses. "Do you like it?"

He hummed and pressed the growing bulge in his trousers against her bottom. "Very much."

She started moving her hips slowly side to side, swaying in his arms and teasing the stiffness poking at her back. "Take me dancing, baby," she whispered playfully.

He sighed, but pulled her in closer. "Yes, dear."

Draco helped her into her jacket and ushered her out of the hotel. They were in some posh little neighbourhood called Chelsea. The high street was lined with luxury tailors and perfumeries of sufficient quality to peak even his interest. He would have to tell his mother about it. Lyra, playing navigator, turned down a spindly series of smaller lanes, moving them further and further from civilization.

Lyra had met a nice barista at the coffee shop next to their hotel earlier that day. She'd picked his brain about local nightlife and he'd given her the address for a place that sounded amazing. Dark. Loud. Dress to impress. She was excited, but, with her hand gripping Draco's arm as they walked, she could feel the tension rise in him as they left the pristine flashiness of the shopping district.

"It's just up here, baby," she muttered to him soothingly.

He looked up and saw a queue of people standing outside of an utterly unremarkable building. He could see colored lights flashing in the windows and the noise emanating from inside was absolutely ruinous. _Bugger..._

"Don't say that," Lyra pouted, reading his thoughts. We don't have to stay long. I just want to dance a little and I told Andrew we'd meet him.

"Who the bloody hell is Andrew?" Draco fired, jealousy flaring hot in his gut.

Lyra chuckled. "He's the barista who told me about this place."

"The what? Spare me your cheeky American slang," he retorted dryly.

"Barista. It's Italian. Means...just nevermind. He's the guy who made my coffee at the shop," she said, annoyed.

He grumbled. "Well, since I'm out among the commons at your request, taking you to rendezvous with some ruddy Italian, the least you can do is spell us through a side door so I won't also have to queue like a plebe."

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don't even know where to start," she deadpanned, pulling him into the alley.

They found their way in through a storage room in the back and entered the body of the club.

 _It's perfect,_ Lyra chirped internally.

 _It's ghastly_ , Draco griped wordlessly.

It was a large and cavernous room. Dark, hot, crowded and vibrating from the bass of the music. Lyra spotted Andrew and his friends off to one side, occupying a set of couches and she started moving that way, dragging a reluctant Draco along with her to say hello.

"There she is, birthday girl!" Andrew exclaimed, jumping up from his seat as they approached.

"Hi! We made it! It's awesome! It's just like you said," Lyra babbled cheerily, embracing him in a half hug. She pulled back and went for introductions. "Andrew, this is my boyfriend Draco. Draco, this is Andrew...

"-the barista," Draco cut in, taking the other man firmly by the hand. "Pleasure. Thank you for keeping her caffinated," he said charmingly.

Andrew laughed. "You're welcome, mate. Anytime."

Lyra had to practically pick her jaw off the floor. He was being friendly. What was going on?

Handshakes were had all around and then Andrew and his friends insisted on a tequila shot for her birthday. After all of that, Lyra was finally able to get Draco on to the dance floor.

He led her out into the crowd and gathered her to his chest. Thanks to her tall black pumps, she was able to press her face into the curve of his neck and savor his woody scent mingled with salty sweat. Lyra had to exercise a great deal of control to avoid openly licking him in front of everyone.

"I wouldn't stop you," he muttered into her ear over the thump of the music.

She settled for a warm kiss to his throat and snuggled closer to him while he ran his hands over her back, moving her as best as he could in time with the music, if you could call it music. It sounded like more like ritualistic mating drums which, tonight actually, suited him just fine.

Some time later, Draco reluctantly relinquished Lyra to her new friends and ventured to the bar for another drink, scotch for him, brandy for Lyra. Annoyingly, one of her adopted muggles tagged along.

"Your girl is bang on, bruv," the muggle babbled obnoxiously as they waited for their drinks. "She got a sister?"

Draco laughed despite himself. "Unfortunately not."

"Ah, bugger it," muggle replied.

Draco smiled tightly and threw a large enough bill on the bar to cover all of their drinks and more.

"Whoa. Cheers, mate," the muggle said in surprise.

Draco gave him a nod and headed back to Lyra.

"Yay! They had it!" Lyra cheered, taking the brandy from his hand and kissing him on the cheek. She drank it quickly and hummed in satisfaction. "Drink up and dance with me, you disgustingly handsome thing," she cooed, leaning in to him.

He followed suit and steered her back out on to the floor and into his embrace. Her glassy eyes and rosy cheeks gave her away. Also the fact that she was leaning heavily on him and moving her hips against his in a way that she never dared do outside of the bedroom.

"Mmm...I'm buzzed," she purred happily.

"You? Never. You're a picture of sobriety, my love," he teased.

She laughed and turned around in his arms, actively seeking out his crotch with the soft curve of her ass.

He huffed and planted some soft kisses to the skin behind her ear, which made her shiver. He could tell she was having fun, and he promised himself that he would let her stay as long as she liked, but he desperately wanted to get her out of there.

"You wanna get me out of here, or what?" She said up at him with a playful smirk. She was feeling warm and relaxed and wanted to take him back to the hotel to have some more fun.

He needed no further encouragement and immediately started clearing them a path towards the door.

"Hey! I need to say bye to our friends!" She protested weakly.

"Sorry, sweetheart. No time," he fired back as he hustled her out the front entrance.

* * *

 **Author's Note - I thought about explaining why Draco has Muggle money and can rent a hotel room and such, but it just didn't fit with the flow, so I'll stick it here. In this AU, the Malfoy's have Muggle financial holdings as well as, obviously, wizarding. I can also see there being a market for Muggle-relations experts in the wizarding world that help wealthy clients do things out in Muggle-land. Things like rent a hotel room, or charter a plane...or buy a flat (see The Pawn). Hope that helps. Thanks and happy reading! -MM**


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note - Absolute, shameless smut. My apologies. -MM**

* * *

 **August 1996  
** **Muggle London, England**

Draco all but apparated her back to their hotel room and neither of them spoke during the short trip. Lyra could feel his magic vibrating inside him. It tickled the skin of her palm as she held his hand while they piloted the dark London streets together. She reached out for the familiarity of his mind and found... _holy shit_.

She saw flashes. Pictures. Of her. Of them. _It was...they were...wow_.

By Lyra's count, they'd had sex about a dozen times since the winter. They'd done a little experimenting with her on top, but mostly their interludes involved them face to face whispering sweet things to each other and enjoying the intimacy. Draco never complained, never asked for anything more and, now, Lyra was a little annoyed. All this time they could have been doing...well...all kinds of things, really. He was quite inventive, it seemed.

 _She was standing, bracing her arms on a wall with her back arched out. He was behind her, thrusting into her forcefully, sucking on her earlobe and telling her how good she felt._

 _She was on her back on a bed while he hovered above her on his knees. He put his hands behind her thighs and pressed her legs towards her shoulders, leaving her totally exposed to him. His eyes were laser focused on her swollen sex like a starving man looking at a feast before him._

 _They were face to face, like normal, but he had her arms pinned above her head, pressing them into the bed as he fucked her roughly. She was begging. She was calling his name. She was moaning. She was coming._

 _She could feel his arousal crest a new peak as he held the image of her climax in his mind. He loved watching her come. He told her that all the time, but she'd never actually read that moment from him before. How badly he wanted it. How gorgeous he thought she was. How it filled him with a smug sense of pride to bring her pleasure. Coaxing that noise, that heat, that sweet quivering from her body...it was the best thing he knew how to do. It was better than Quidditch. It was better than magic itself._

Lyra retreated from his mind and tried to keep her heart from pounding out of her chest as they ascended the grand oaken staircase in the lobby of their hotel, moving at a purposeful pace.

Draco ushered her back into their spacious suite and shed his jacket. He kissed her on the cheek and then left her in front of the fireplace as he made to go splash some water on his face to remove the sweat and grime from the club.

"I agree with you, you know," Lyra called to him, halting his progress.

He turned back and raised his brow at her quizzically.

"Making you come. It's the best thing I know how to do. Better than arguing," she said softly.

His mouth opened slightly in surprise.

"Better than magic," she whispered.

He walked back to her quickly, took her face gently in both of his hands and kissed her.

Lyra tipped her head back and sighed into his mouth as his tongue swiped skillfully along her bottom lip. She fumbled, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and reached inside to pull out his wand.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her in confusion.

She smiled and handed it to him. "Thankfully, we don't have to choose," she muttered, taking him by the wrist and tracing his wand down her own nose and lips. She stopped when it was positioned directly under her chin. "Do it," she commanded.

"Legilimens," he said softly and entered her mind.

 _She showed him his own thoughts as they walked together back from the club. The ways he dreamed about fucking her. How he felt when he made her come. She'd seen it. She'd read him and her mind was positively buzzing with a single overarching response: Yes. Yes to all of it._

He pulled out of her mind suddenly and stared at her. She was breathless and panting. She wound her arms around his neck and tilted her head back so her breath puffed warm on his chin.

"Please," she begged.

"Sweetheart, we can do whatever you want. It's just a bit of fantasy," he retorted, slightly embarrassed by what she'd seen.

Lyra frowned and pressed her torso closer to his. "Please," she repeated desperately.

He shook his head. "Lyra, I...I want you to be very clear about what you're asking for," he said slowly. It was becoming hard for him to think, what with all his blood abandoning his brain in favor of his prick, but he had to do this.

She blushed fiercely and looked away. It was hard for her to put into words.

"You can tell me anything. You can ask me for anything," he said to her reassuringly, squeezing her hips.

"I want you to fuck me," she said meekly, almost in a whisper. "I want you to push me. Take me how you want," she told him, unable to meet his eye. As soon as the last word was out she buried her face in his shoulder and tried to will her skin back to a normal color.

Draco held her and let the words sink into his bones. Her trust in him was astounding and it was a prize he put on equal standing to her love. He treasured it and wanted to reassure her that her trust in him was not misplaced.

With that in mind, what should have said in the moment was something along the lines of "Tell me to stop and we stop," or "I would never hurt you," or "I love you."

But, what actually came out was "Hands on the mantle, Black. Spread your legs."...And that would just have to do.

Lyra pulled her head off his shoulder and looked up at him. He could see her pulse hammering in her throat and he wanted so badly to suck on that throbbing patch of flesh, but it would have to wait. He cocked his head in the direction of the fire and waited for her to comply.

She did as she was told and placed her palms to the smooth stone of the mantle. The fire sent hot currents of air swirling around her legs like dragon's breath and she closed her eyes. She could feel him stalking up behind her slowly and she thought she might go mad from anticipation.

He used a foot placed between hers to roughly widen her stance to his liking and then she felt the blunt tip of his wand in between her shoulder blades. He trailed it down her spine until it made contact with the black fabric riding very low on her back.

"Finite incantatem," he muttered, undoing whichever charm she'd used to keep her dress in place. A slight shift of her body sent one of the sleeves slipping down her arm seductively and bunching at her elbow.

He kissed the back of her neck, being careful to ensure that it was the only contact his body made with hers. Lyra's soft skin trembled beneath his lips and Draco smiled. Continuing his offensive, he set his hands high on her ribs and trailed them down her sides, over her waist and down the outside of her thighs.

He took the hem of her little black dress in both hands and slid it upward over the flare of her hips, exposing her underwear to him. _Black. Lovely._

Lyra gasped and hid her face in the cool stone of the mantle. With her skirt over her ass, she could feel the warmth from the fire licking across the thin black satin covering her sex.

Draco used one hand to smooth down her back in a calming gesture while his other hand hooked deviously into the fabric of her knickers, pulling them aside. He toyed with her for a moment before opening her with two fingers, sinking in halfway. She was slick, hot and tight. She surprised him by rocking her hips back on to his hand, bringing him in all the way.

"Mmm," he purred into her ear. "Do you like that, sweetheart?" He asked, rotating his digits in a gentle corkscrew motion.

Lyra craned her neck back so she could press her cheek to his. "Uh-huh," she grunted gracelessly.

"Keep moving," he commanded. He leaned back a bit and enjoyed the heady vision of her fucking herself on his fingers. "Bloody hell," he remarked as she took control.

She pumped her hips rhythmically to start building herself up and it was so intense. The fire. Draco. She felt hot and cold at the same time. It was so much...it was incredible. She felt dizzy. Fucking tequila. Hot. She was definitely too hot...wasn't she? God, he was making her hallucinate.

Draco felt her core twitch around his fingers and she gasped something to him unintelligibly. He leaned back into her and kissed her shoulder. She was clammy cool. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"The fire. Hot. I.." she trailed off, still working her body on his.

Draco snatched her back from the mantle instantly with a strong arm around her waist. He pulled his fingers from her without thought to make sure she was ok and Lyra whined in protest, pushing her groin back out in search of his hand.

Ok, she was still with him, he reasoned to himself. He turned her around in his arms and claimed her mouth. She was flushed and firekissed, so warm against him. He led her back towards the bedroom and pulled her dress over her head.

The coolness of the air against her skin brought her back to herself. She kicked off her heels and looked up at him.

He sat her down at the edge of the bed and tipped her on to her back with a gentle push. "Legs up, love."

She lifted them dutifully and Draco relieved her of her underwear. He opened her legs wide and lowered himself down into her hollow.

Lyra liked the tickle of his clothing on her naked skin, but was desperate for more of him. She broke their kiss with a whimper. "I want to feel you," she whispered, scratching her nails down the back of his neck.

Draco's eyes drooped and he leaned in for one more kiss before he reached a hand down to undo his trousers while Lyra fussed with the remaining buttons of his shirt. He reluctantly pulled away from her to discard his clothing before returning to her on the bed and, after a bit of rolling around, wrangled her into a position on top of him.

Lyra smirked, knowing exactly what he wanted. "I don't get why you like this so much," she remarked, referring to the position. It drove him wild. It was cute.

He reached up and ran his hand down her stomach lazily. "Because you don't see what I see," he replied, eyes melting to silver as he looked her over.

She blushed and adjusted herself on top of him so that his erect member sat snugly in between her folds. She rocked her hips to wet his cock with her arousal and sighed. Reaching out for both of his hands, she leaned her weight into their grip and swiveled her hips skillfully, ensnaring him with her warm sheath.

Lyra studied his face intently as she took him inside her. The graceful extension of his neck, exposing his porcelain throat. The way his handsome features relaxed with satisfaction but then tightened with pleasure. He was stunning. She leaned down to him, running her nose gently along his. "You don't see what I see, either," she told him, snatching his mouth in a sensual kiss.

She sat back up and decided that she needed him closer so she pulled him up into a seated position and snaked her legs around his waist. _Oh, this is perfect_ , she thought to herself. Skin to skin, chest to chest, face to face. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and touched her forehead to his as she started to move.

"Fuck, that's perfect, love," Draco breathed against her mouth.

She smiled and carried on. It didn't take much effort on her part for the tension in her belly to build to a fever pitch. Draco was pulling her down on to him with his strong hands and thrusting into her roughly, making the sensations deep and strong.

Draco could feel her tighten with every upward press of his hips. She wouldn't be long for this round, he could tell. When the rhythmic grind of her body faltered to erratic pumps, Draco stilled. He wanted her to use his cock to draw the orgasm out herself. He wanted her to get it just how she liked.

Her nails bit into the skin of his upper back and he felt her sleek flesh quiver and spasm around his shaft. _Gods, he loved that._ He wound his fingers in her hair and pulled back so he could watch. Her eyes were glassed and unfocused, her mouth agape in a silent cry. She looked wild. Pure.

She gasped and inhaled violently after her peak. "Oh my god, baby. Oh my god," she babbled, dropping her head on to his shoulder, still moving on him to prolong her pleasure.

He banded his arms about her waist and held her tightly, smoothing his palms over the skin of her back to calm her after she finished. She was limp in his arms for several minutes and Draco considered that she'd fallen asleep.

"Sweetheart?" He asked, moving his shoulder a bit to stir her.

She lifted her head slowly and looked at him heavy-eyed.

"Do you want to rest?" He questioned.

Lyra furrowed her brow and pouted. "No. I want more. Don't stop."

Draco made a noise that was dangerously close to a purr and laid Lyra down on her back. He spent a few moments letting his hands wander aimlessly over her body while his cock languished full and heavy on her thigh. "Turn over," he muttered.

Lyra raised an eyebrow at him but complied.

He climbed up her body, between her legs and planted a kiss to the small of her back, which made her squirm. He moved up slowly, painting her spine with his breath. Settling over her, he brushed her hair over one of her shoulders and nibbled on her earlobe. She whimpered and arched her back which brought the smooth flesh of her ass into close contact with his groin. He hummed. Taking advantage of the tilt of her hips, he grabbed his cock and guided it along her slick fissure until he found her again, hissing as he filled her tight space.

Lyra cried out in pleasured surprise, pressing her face into the bed. With the mattress pressing up on her and Draco pressing down it made everything feel closer, tighter. Out of curiosity, Lyra wriggled her hand underneath her and placed it low on her abdomen. She gasped. _She could fucking feel him._ Feel him penetrating her, the welcome disruption tapping into her hand with every push. It felt so good.

"Are you alright?" He grunted to her between thrusts.

"Don't you dare stop," she said to him dangerously, forcing her hips back towards him to take more. She heard him groan and then felt his long fingers wrap gently around her slim neck.

"Look up, Lyra," he breathed into her ear, lifting her head and turning it to the side.

"Holy shit," she rasped. A long mirror along the wall was showing her every delicious detail of their fuck. His pale skin fused to her tan flesh. His white hair tangled with her black like snow on dragonglass. They looked amazing together.

Draco pushed up on both arms and increased his speed. His eyes fell on how the plump round of her ass moved with every slapping thrust. It was hard, it was fast and his little witch was fucking mad for it. He glanced up to see her watching him with rapt fascination. It was everything.

With the new angle and leverage, he'd never been so far inside her before and it was like every new millimeter he found held another decadent secret that was his and his alone. He tipped his head back, feeling the pressure build behind his balls. She was surrounding him in her heat and he wanted to so badly to fill her with his own.

"Your tight little pussy feels so good around my cock. Let me come in you," he said darkly, letting the animal speak.

Lyra whimpered.

"Say it, Lyra. Tell me," he commanded.

"I want it. I want it so fucking bad. It's so warm. It feels so good. It gets me off," Lyra growled back, letting the animal speak right back.

He reached down once more for her throat and pulled her up. He pressed his forehead into the crown of her hair, breathed her in and barreled into his climax, roaring into her ear and filling her with come. He vaguely registered that she was unraveling beneath him, but couldn't really focus on it given that he was ejaculating with enough force to nearly knock him unconscious.

He collapsed down onto her in the aftermath and took a few minutes to slow his heart before rolling them on to their sides, his cheek stuck with sweat to the back of her neck.

"Baby. You ok?" She asked him after a while.

The only response she received was the gentle tide of his breath caressing her ear. He was fast asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note - Sorry for the delay. No excuse outside of good, old fashioned writer's block. M rated up to the first break. Happy reading! -MM**

* * *

 **August 1996  
** **Muggle London, England**

"Draco, I have to go."

"It's too early, love. Go back to sleep," he rebutted, clutching her closer to him.

Lyra hummed and pressed a kiss to his chest. "I would love to but I have to beat Severus back to Diagon Alley. He'll have my head if he knows I've been out."

He grumbled unhappily, but released her so she could dress.

"I should have brought a change of clothes," she remarked as she donned her tight black dress from the evening prior. "This thing screams 'walk of shame' for sure," she added, pulling her panties over the flare of her hips.

"Come here," Draco said darkly to her.

Lyra wasn't even looking at him, but just the timbre of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

She looked over her shoulder. He was sitting on the side of the bed, gloriously naked. His hair was tousled and his erect cock was teasing her as it arched deliciously up towards his belly.

She went to him immediately and stood between his legs. Reaching up, he began tugging unceremoniously at her underwear, which she'd just put back on. "Hey!" She protested.

"Oh no, sweetheart. I'm keeping these," he informed her as he slid them past her knees. He grabbed her waist and turned her around suddenly so she was facing away from him, looking into the mirror along the wall. "Skirt up. Sit down," he growled to her.

She brought her hands timidly to her hem and pulled the dress up over her ass. Reaching back for him, she planted her hands on his thighs and lowered herself into his lap. As soon as she was settled, his pale arm snaked around her and she watched fascinated as he started toying with her aching sex.

Draco loved touching her. Her sleek, warm flesh acquiescing to his gentle probing, engorging at his command. She got so soft and needy for him during those sweet moments that he wanted to engineer some sort of time bending device that could trap them in their foreplay forever.

She was scandalously wet this morning, with a slight tackyness to her that was his remnant from the night before. Feeling himself on her most intimate skin, painted on to her, was amazing. She loved him, wanted him and trusted him enough to let him leave part of himself inside of her whenever they made love. Draco still dreamed occasionally of the black-haired, gray-eyed baby he'd first seen the night his father was arrested, but knew that Lyra came armed to the gills with contraception potions, charms and wards (courtesy of her mother) and so unintended pregnancy was never a pressing concern, which was for the best.

After petting her for a bit, he withdrew his fingers and helped steer her so she could impale herself on his hardness.

"Fuck," she hissed, sitting back into him. His entry burned a little but he felt so good. His cock was stretching her in a way that she wasn't used to and it was so intense.

"Move," he commanded.

Lyra pressed her feet into the floor next to his for stability. She started by rotating her hips in a little circle and jolted when she felt the underside of his penis rub hard against that spot that she loved when he teased her with his fingers.

"Don't stop," he encouraged, flexing himself upward in search of another deep stroke.

Lyra arched her back and leaned into him, increasing her speed.

He reached around, grabbing the inside of her thighs and pulled hard to widen her legs. "Look at that," he rasped into her ear.

Lyra lifted her head from off his shoulder and looked into the mirror. She was instantly mesmerized by the sight of her sex taking him over and over, making him glisten with her need.

She rode him hard, eventually bowing forward for leverage to work herself up and down his shaft while he pulled her back on to him roughly. When he came though, Lyra picked herself up to watch with fascination the erratic throb of his cock as he filled her.

Draco was limp as a stunned cat for the first minute or so afterwards. It was Lyra flexing her sweetness around his softening prick that brought him back to attention.

He rewarded her teasing with a satisfied groan and reluctantly pulled his forehead away from the back of her neck.

She gave him a cocky hum that made him smirk into her hair. He lifted one of her arms and wrapped it around his shoulders so they could both look in the mirror with ease. His witch was so gorgeous that it almost struck him dumb. A simple twist of his hips caused him to slip from her body, smacking wetly into the sheet below them.

"Look," he whispered into her ear, nuzzling along the lobe with his nose.

Lyra shivered anxiously but complied, watching his semen peak out slowly from between her well-fucked folds. She made no effort to hide the atomic blush that blazed across her face and chest and, after a few moments, started shifting a bit to reduce her exposure.

"Shhh...stop. Don't be embarrassed. I love seeing you like this," He soothed, bringing his hand around to push his escaping seed back inside her.

The intimacy of the gesture left her breathless. She writhed wildly in his arms, gasping secrets to him as he built her pleasure for her.

"I love you so much," she panted. "I need you. You're what I dream about. Your voice, your hands, your mind, your cock. I've never wanted anything like I want you."

Draco buried his face in her shoulder to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes as she confessed to him.

"Please find me before I leave tomorrow. When I have you...I...I can't be without you very long. It hurts," she pleaded as a tear of her own tracked unashamed down her flushed cheek.

He maneuvered to catch her mouth in a quick kiss. "I'll find you. I promise," he vowed. "I love you, Lyra."

* * *

 **August 1996  
** **Wizarding London, England**

Draco was replaying her words in his head over and over as he wandered alone down the Alley, which was pleasently deserted in the hours of early morning. He'd seen Lyra safely back to her room at the dingy little pub Snape had her holed up in and was headed down to the baker in Knockturn to fetch some pastry that was a favorite of his Mum's.

He flooed back to his family's London townhouse where he and his mother were staying until he was set to go back to Hogwarts. He rather liked it. It was more modern than the Manor and far less imposing. The Manor was lovely in its way, but he tired of having to owl his mother to reach her in her wing of the house. Here, he could just call to her or send her a message by floo, if he was feeling especially lazy.

His mother was on him as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace into the neat foyer.

"Where have you been? I've been owling you all bloody morning, Draco!" She called, grabbing onto the sleeve of his suit.

He froze for a moment. His mother had cursed. She never cursed. "What's the matter?" He asked her immediately, sensing her distress.

"We need to return to Wiltshire at once to make preparations. The Dark Lord will be visiting us this evening," she told him shakily.

"What?!" He exclaimed, in disbelief.

* * *

 **August 1996  
Malfoy Manor  
** **Wizarding Wiltshire, England**

"Are you not hungry, my Lord? If the meal doesn't suit you, we can have anything you like brought up from the kitchens," Narcissa chatted politely while she moved a well-stabbed leaf of lettuce nervously around on her plate.

"Hmm. I require little food these days, but do enjoy yourselves," he replied placidly. "I'll be in Lucius's study. Send your son to me when you are finished."

Draco, who had his eyes fixed intently on his barely touched dinner, used all of the energy he wasn't expending on occlumency to keep his hands from shaking and rattling his silverware.

"As you wish, my Lord," his mother replied as the snake faced wizard sitting at the head of their dining table disintegrated into wisps of black smoke.

"Draco," she called to him once they were alone.

He snapped his head up to look at her, hoping for her guidance, hoping that she would lead them into the fireplace to some planned hiding place, hoping for some kind of out to this bizarre situation.

"Bring a bottle of the Domaine Boingneres with you when you go. Your father always has a spare in the Library," she chirped, mantaining her well practiced 'social voice.'

Draco frowned but nodded and went back to rearranging the quail eggs on his plate for an appropriate amount of time before kissing his mother on the cheek and going to meet the Dark Lord. He stopped off at the library as instructed and grabbed the pristine bottle of his father's favorite brandy. He then ascended the great staircase that led to his father's imposing study. Draco hadn't been inside since his 15th birthday, after his time with Olivia, where his father had badgered him with inappropriate questions before launching into a predictable rant on all of the 'blood-traitors' and 'brutish fools' at The Ministry and The Daily Prophet.

Steeling himself, he knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.

"Mr. Malfoy, do come in. This is your house, you need not knock on my account," the ancient wizard said to him in a voice that was friendly, but edged.

Draco pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Dark Lord was standing behind his father's desk, ruminating over the collection of books and volumes that lined the shelves.

"Quite a neat little collection. I had no idea Lucius was so interested in runes. Lot of potential there," he mused, running a long, pale digit over the dragonscale spine of one of the manuscripts. He turned to face Draco. "And speaking of potential, let us talk about yours."

"My Lord, I am at your service," he replied plainly, expending a great deal of mental energy to keep thoughts calm and his face composed.

"Yes, yes. I know. So many I have at my service," The Dark Lord dismissed with a wave of his hand, before installing himself regally in the plush chair behind the desk. "and so many disappointments. Dolohov, Crabbe, McNair and not the least of all your own father," he continued, sounding almost tired.

Draco winced but held the wizard's gaze. Unsure of what to do, he approached slowly and set the brandy down on the desk in front of the Dark Lord with an inoffensive thud. "Drink?"

Something Draco couldn't place sparkled in the elder wizard's eyes and he thought he caught the faintest hint of a smirk. "You have the same charm about you as your father. I always liked him best when he was faking sincerity. Now it seems such a waste," he said wistfully.

Draco swallowed hard.

"Anyway, I have an assignment for you."

"An assignment, my Lord?" Draco asked.

"You return to Hogwarts soon, yes? I would like you to do some things for me while you are there," he stated.

"Of course," Draco replied, partially in automatic deference, partly out of genuine interest.

"There is an artifact at Borgin and Burkes that I would like you to familiarize yourself with before your departure."

"Should be no problem," Draco responded.

"Secondly, I would like you to take the Mark," he said in a blase tone.

Draco's stomach lurched uncomfortably. Taking the Dark Mark, becoming a Death Eater, was certainly not something he expected to hear after his father's failure at The Ministry. The Slytherin in him, or maybe it was just the Malfoy, started scheming immediately. This could truly mean something for him and his family. Maybe their prospects weren't as tarnished as he thought. If he could do this, they could win back favor with the Dark Lord. In his mind, he saw a series of flashes, recent memories of his mother crying over their situation. Maybe this would stop her tears.

The older wizard sneered, dropping his amiable facade. "Your mother will probably cry regardless. She has none of the passion of her sister and seems to have inherited all of the weakness," he fired, plucking the animated thoughts from Draco's mind. "Understand that I am giving you my Mark because you will have need of it, not because I choose you. You have done nothing worthy of my favor."

"I've knocked Potter off a broom once or twice, which my father couldn't even manage, so I figure that's got to count for something," Draco fired back without thinking. He hadn't meant to say anything, but he was fuming mad after the insult to his mother.

The Dark Lord laughed. It was an odd, artificial sound, but it was enough to allow Draco to draw breath again after his outburst and recloak his thoughts.

"We will see, won't we."

"I suppose we will," Draco answered. "Is there anything else?"

Voldemort steepled his fingers thoughtfully under his chin. "Yes. I would like you to kill Albus Dumbledore for me."

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it.

Voldemort did not laugh. He stared calmly until the young wizard had regained his composure. "You should have a drink, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco paled at his tone. "Do you really mean it?"

"Well quite frankly, I couldn't care less whether you have a drink or not," he quipped dryly.

Draco shook his head in confusion.

"About The Headmaster, however, I am completely serious."

"I..." Draco began.

"Understand that Albus and I have had our disagreements but his death would be out of necessity and not malice. I need something from him for the coming war and he is unable to give it while he lives. Despite my reputation, I abhor spilling magical blood. Still, I am a man of the truth and the truth is that his death is required to further our cause," the snakefaced wizard stated plainly. "Restore the proper balance. Magic for the worthy, the well practiced, the devoted. Those with the heritage and the sense of perspective to know what magic truly means."

Draco said nothing. The Dark Lord rose from his seat and walked over to him, planting a hand on his shoulder. Draco registered that his hand was cold. It felt dead. Inhuman even.

"Go to your room. Rest and prepare. You will take the Mark tonight and then Burke and Greyback will help prepare you for your other tasks," he said. "I'll send your Aunt Bellatrix along this afternoon to speak with you and...tend to your mother," he added with distaste.

Draco's body was on autopilot. He gave a wooden nod and vaguely registered that The Dark Lord had disappeared at some point while he stared unseeing into the fireplace.


	37. Chapter 37

**August 1996  
Malfoy Manor  
** **Wizarding Wiltshire, England**

Draco shot up in bed from a deep sleep and the movement made his freshly mangled arm throb with pain.

He looked over to the clock on his bedside table which informed him that it was midafternoon. He sighed sadly and rubbed his eyes, which were sore and irritated from either a lack of sleep or far too much, he wasn't sure.

Since the Dark Lord had reentered his life some days prior, Draco had been cast full throttle into the role of footsoldier, spy and budding assassin without so much as a second thought from any of the other Death Eaters, most of whom were either close friends of his family or were his actual relatives. During his branding, the Dark Lord had made mention that he was the youngest person ever to be honored with the mark, but then later reinforced to him privately that he would not be truly worthy of it until he had completed his work and 'compensated for the failures of his father.'

Draco had been eager to prove himself, but his 'assignment' as it was put to him, seemed impossible for even a skilled wizard of age, let alone a 16 year old. That's not to say he was helpless. The passing of information he could easily do, the vanishing cabinet might prove more of a challenge, but wasn't out of the realm of possibility. But, killing one of the most powerful wizards on Earth? Not bloody likely.

When he entered Borgin and Burke's that night and was led into the back room for the ceremony he saw Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf that served Voldemort, just casually chewing on a dismembered human hand. Nobody else seemed to be bothered by it, but it consumed his thoughts - thoughts that should have been focused on being grateful for a second chance or possibly on how to transfigure himself into a bird and get the hell out of there. Even as the Dark Lord slashed and scarred his flesh while he bit halfway through his own tongue to refrain from screaming, his eyes would still occasionally flit back to Greyback, ripping tendon from finger and nursing a tumbler of firewhiskey. It made him ill.

After his marking and more discussion of his responsibilities, he returned home and retreated instantly for his room, barely even registering the pleas from his mother begging him to 'wait' and 'talk to her' and 'forgive her.'

Draco swallowed hard at the thought and peeled himself weakly off of his sweat soaked sheets. He lumbered into his bathroom and approached the mirror with hesitation. Bracing his palms on the marble of the sink, he looked up.

A ghost. He looked like a ghost. Stark white, haunted expression, sickly shadows ringing his eyes. His gaze wandered with distaste over his shirtless form and stopped on a round little bruise on his right shoulder that had already healed to a dull brown. He recalled immediately what it was and how he'd gotten it. He grazed his fingers over it lightly and whispered her name to his reflection in the mirror.

Suddenly, his stomach lurched and his heart started pounding.

 _What's the date? Where is she?_

He rushed from the bathroom, through the bedroom and into his private sitting room. Hurrying over to his large desk, he looked down at the ornate calendar made of golden rotating blocks that told him the date.

Roaring in anger, he shoved it off the desktop, along with anything else he could get his hands on and throw.

August, 24th. She was already gone. He promised her that he would find her before she left and he had missed her. To be painfully honest, he hadn't even thought about her since everything else had happened. In a moment which he could only describe as an embarrassing rash of poetic delirium, he touched the bruise on his shoulder again and noted that Lyra's mark was fading, while Voldemort's was growing darker and deeper into him. Unable to think of anything else to do, he pitched himself into a chair and cried like a child.


	38. Chapter 38

**October 1996  
** **Ilvermorny, The American School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
** **Wizarding Massachusetts, United States of America**

"I'm tired, guys. I think I'm going to wrap this up alone and get some sleep," Lyra said warily, gathering her Transfiguration homework and heading down the narrow corridor to her room.

"Lyra, what the hell?! It's only 8 o'clock," Diana called after her, confused. "Are you sick?"

"I hope not. You know how I get," she answered, deflecting further questions.

She felt fine, physically that is. The truth was that she'd been in a shit mood since coming home from England and was starting to run out of excuses to avoid social engagements. She would much rather brood around her room, stewing in discontent.

 _He promised._

Lyra had very nearly missed her flight waiting for him, certain he'd sneak up behind her as she stood in line for bad airport coffee or something, but he never showed.

 _But he promised._

It wasn't like him to lie. Well, ok he lied all the time but it wasn't like him to lie...like that...to her. She waited weeks for an owl from him, for an explanation if nothing else. But again, she was disappointed.

In the aftermath, Lyra made the executive decision not to write to him until he explained himself. Her ability to withstand temptation varied by the day. Some days she felt righteous in her indignation and others she worried that he had gotten ill or hurt. Either way, the sting of his continued neglect was taking its toll oh her attitude. On an intellectual level, she knew it was silly, insipid even, to care so much. But, she loved him, and that last night with him, that next morning, had been...special. Different. Deeper somehow.

Regardless, she would not be wasting any time writing to him when he couldn't be bothered to acknowledge her. Absolutely not.


	39. Chapter 39

**November 1996  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Wizarding Scotland**

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy. Shut the door," Snape called out from behind his desk.

Draco did as he was bid and made his way to the sparse wooden chair in front, lowering himself into it warily.

"Did you have a good recess?" The professor inquired, referring to the brief bank holiday that had just passed.

"It was pleasant enough, I suppose. The Dark Lord dined with us on Friday," he replied haughtily.

Snape frowned. He had been unaware. "Did he seem in good spirits?" He asked with an edge.

Draco paled.

"Did he hurt you?" He asked lowly, stripped of all pretense.

Draco looked down at his hands. "No, but he smashed up the parlour pretty well," he replied quietly. "I know he says it should have been done weeks ago. I just...I need more time."

"Have you considered...other means of accomplishing your task?" Snape asked.

"I've got a plan for a pass in the next few weeks," he replied, rubbing a wary hand down his cheek, which was atypically rough with a faint stubble. He was so tired. He was not cut out for this. It had all seemed so sexy in theory. Spy. Dark Horse. But the reality of it was overwhelming on a good day and soul-crushing on a bad.

"Have you written to Lyra?" Snape inquired, snatching Draco from his thoughts.

"No. I've done as you asked," Draco replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Has she written you?"

"No."

"It's for the best. You can't afford any distractions," he offered.

Draco scoffed. "She doesn't distract me. She makes me..." he trailed off.

"Makes you what?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised.

"Nothing. Forget it," he dismissed.

Snape furrowed his brow. He had heard the boy's thoughts. Draco's occlemency was suffering greatly from the stress of his task.

 _Calm. Grounded. Human._

"May I leave, Professor?" Draco asked.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You may."

* * *

Later that day, while taking lunch in the great hall, a little stack of 3 letters fell into his lap. They were tied together with black twine that he recognized instantly from Snape's desk and all were from Lyra. Draco bolted from the hall, into a recessed corner of the library, and ripped in to them in sequence:

 **15 October 1996  
** **Mr. Malfoy,  
** **Severus has asked me to forgo my winter interval because of some project he's doing, so I won't be coming. I also wanted to let you know that I am available to receive your detailed apology by either letter, singing messenger or in the form of an obscenely large piece of jewelry. Make it good, Frog. I won't have you wasting any more of my time.  
** **Best,  
** **L.L. Black**

 **30 October 1996**  
 **Draco,  
** **But really though. Are you ok? Where were you?  
** **Lyra**

 **11 November 1996  
** **You are a total and complete bastard. I cannot believe you right now.  
** **-LB**

He exhaled hard and clutched the letters to his chest, letting her quips and insults wash over him like a soothing rain. Even her being angry with him made him feel better. He felt such a lightness from knowing that she'd written that he barely registered his anger with Snape over keeping it from him. He would deal with that later. For now, he would just enjoy the fleeting moment of normalcy. Of freedom.


	40. Chapter 40

**December 1996  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Wizarding Scotland**

"You're being sloppy," Snape fired flatly at the student in front of him. "The gate crashing. Missing assignments. That stunt with the necklace. You could have killed Miss Bell. It's that kind of desperate nonsense that draws attention and is going to get you caught."

"Bullocks," Malfoy dismissed with venom in his voice. He was so bloody sick of the old snake and his cringeworthy paternalism. Nevertheless, his gut twisted painfully at the thought of the mousy Gryffindor being laid up in the hospital ward because of his scheme. He felt no particular affection for her, but he didn't want her dead either. _Why did she have to touch it? Why couldn't she just do as he'd commanded?_

"I promised your mother I would try my best to help you, but you are obstinate and..."

"Obstinate! I'm a rich, well bred sixteen year old! What the bloody hell else am I supposed be! I see my idiot classmates every day going about their lives. Studying, snogging, playing Quidditch, and what of that for me?! I get an order to kill the most powerful wizard in the world and an image of Fenrir Greyback eating a finger burned in to my memory for all time?!" He shouted, his voice ringing off the stone walls of the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Wrong," Snape fired suddenly. "You WERE a rich, well bred sixteen year old. Now you are in the service of the Dark Lord and will do only as you are bid. If that was a greater challenge than you were willing to bear, you should have declined the honor," he said darkly. He hated the way his words sounded rolling off his tongue, but he had to impress upon the boy that failure could cost him dearly. If Voldemort hadn't already threatened to him or Narcissa with violence, he surely would soon, especially with Draco producing such lukewarm intelligence and slow results.

"If you would only accept my assistance," he tried again.

"No thank you, Professor," Draco replied with an edge.

Snape rolled his eyes. Draco didn't trust him anymore. It wasn't surprising or anything, it was simply inconvenient. The lad resented his hovering and the hard line he took against any further contact with Lyra.

He felt bad for Draco, he really did, but there was nothing to be done other than stick to the plan and try to get him out the other side alive, keeping his daughter as far away from it as possible. After that, they could do as they pleased. They could blame him all they liked. As long as they remained alive to set said blame on him, he would consider his endeavors a success.

"Look. The holiday starts in a few days. I suggest you take some time to regroup. Study. Snog. Play Quidditch if that's what you require. But when you return, you had better have some renewed focus or I honestly don't know what will happen if things continue as they are...and that is not an assessment I make lightly," Snape counseled.

Draco paled but held his scowl.

"You're dismissed. You have an extra roll of parchment to write on the wandless deflection of counter-jinxes for the assignment you missed and I expect to have it before you leave."

The blonde was out of his desk and making his way towards the door before Snape had finished his sentence.

Why were all the petulant children in his life so resistant to his efforts to keep them alive? Potter. Malfoy. Lyra. Did children not like being alive anymore? Was that something new? Regardless, it was enough to drive him half mad with frustration and he spared a moment to thank the non-existent gods that he only had to teach them, rather than raise them. He would lose his bloody mind...

* * *

Draco stayed up late that night. He spent an hour or two tinkering with the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement before retreating to his common room to pace and think.

He was so tired of other people pulling his strings. His father. Voldemort. Snape. He just wanted to be free of all of it. If he could somehow convince his mother to run, he would be gone in a second. She was proving to be a tough sell, though, as she spent most of her days in a near catatonic state, blitzed on vodka and wormwood tonics. Whenever he could pin her down for a conversation, she would burst in to tears and start crying about his father.

If he had a shot at getting her out, he would likely have to find a way to free his father, which would require the Dark Lord's assistance and put him squarely back on his current path. Novice Death Eater and aspiring assassin.

"Draco," a soft voice called, breaking his train of thought.

He turned to see a bleary eyed, pajama-clad Pansy Parkinson approaching.

"Can't sleep?" She asked gently.

"Lot on my mind," he grunted in reply, turning his back on her.

"I can see that," she quipped.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" He asked, trying to put an end to her prodding.

"I couldn't sleep either," she answered.

He nodded and went back to staring at some innocuous spot on the wall hoping that she would just buzz off.

"I have a cousin. Deidre. She ran off a few years back and married some godsawful half-blood cauldron maker. It was a huge Parkinson family scandal, as I'm sure you can imagine," Pansy began.

"She writes to me sometimes. I don't reply, of course, but I got an owl from her today. Her husband's gone missing and she's absolutely frantic," she told him, her voice thin. "They've got a little girl, you see. Poppy. And I just...I can't stop thinking about her. It's stupid, I know, I just..." she trailed off.

She was telling him the truth. Trusting him with another one of her secrets. She hadn't spoken like that to him in years. It felt good. It felt real.

He turned back to face her. "That...that's terrible."

She shook her head dismissively. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," he corrected. He advanced on her impulsively, desperate for connection, and grabbed her by the waist. He swallowed her surprised squeak as he fused his mouth to hers. She tasted like tears and cinnamon. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't right either. They snogged properly for a good minute, but then he released her, unable to maintain the ruse.

"I'm sorry for that," he muttered, stepping away from her a bit.

She studied him a moment. "It's fine," she said quietly. "Still hung up on the American?" She inquired.

Draco snorted. "I suppose I am."

"Well, it's nearly break. Will you see her?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Ah. Tough luck, mate. Do find something to do with yourself over break, though. You've been scowling so much lately that you're going to need smoothing charms for those frown lines by year's end," she ribbed.

"Well, I'll just have to ask your mother which cosmagician she sees, won't I?" He joked back.

Pansy laughed and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Goodnight, you tosser," she teased, before taking off in the direction of her dormitory.

"Goodnight hag," he called to her back. "And Pansy..."

She turned to face him.

"I'm sorry about your cousin. Truly," he said to her, hoping to infuse as much meaning and intention into those words as he could.

This movement and the coming war, it was tearing people apart. Draco found himself wondering a lot lately if it was worth it. So, mudbloods and the rest of the plebes were generally swotty and annoying, but destroying families? What greater magical purpose would truly be served by depriving a little girl of her father? What a mess.

"Thanks," Pansy replied quietly before continuing on.

After she was gone, Draco wandered forlornly over to the large window on the far side of the common room that peered into the depths of the lake. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass and frowned.

Pansy had been right. He could see the weight of his burden splashed across his face in fine lines, dark circles and bloodshot eyes. Seeing him in this state would probably send his mum into a fit, and that wouldn't do. How the hell was he supposed to 'find something to do with himself' as she'd put it when the Dark Lord could come crashing into the foyer at the manor at any moment to confront him for all of his failures?

"Study, snog and play Quidditch," he muttered bitterly to himself, recalling his conversation with Snape from earlier that day. He'd be damned if he spent his holiday studying and he had no desire to play Quidditch. Snogging he could do. Snogging he enjoyed, but the thought of being with anyone but Lyra cooled his passion.

He lost the bulk of that night to just staring out into the lake, trying to come up with a plan, trying to make sense of how his life had become this fear-filled shell, trying to connect the dots to lead him back to a time where he felt like himself.

Maybe it was denial, maybe it was escapism, maybe it was sleep-deprived delirium..but after hours of deliberation, he decided there was really only one thing to be done. He was being encouraged to kick back and regroup and he intended to do just that, with the one person who grounded him better than any other.

While that had been the surface justification for his selfish decision, a deeper part of himself was contemplating something much darker. If Draco went through with what he had been tasked, he would never be worthy of her again. Not ever. He had to see her. He had to. Before he either disappeared as a traitor to his cause, died in a senseless war or became a murderer. The severity of the thought had him literally clutching his chest in discomfort and fighting back yet another round of useless tears.

After a moment, he installed himself at a writing desk and wrote a quick note to his mum, telling her that he would be home after Christmas. He felt a twinge of guilt in doing so, but not so intense as to deter him from his plan. He penned another letter to his family's muggle goods specialist to set things in motion and bound that to a third quick scribble that was for Lyra.

He'd sneak into Hogsmeade early to send everything from the Owlery in town, thereby avoiding interception by Snape. Then, he would make his way to the retreat and pray that she would come to him.

* * *

 **Author's Note - Again the muggle goods specialist mentioned here is someone who can get things out in the muggle world for wizards who have enough money to employ them. Happy reading! -MM**


	41. Chapter 41

**Christmas Eve, 1996**  
 **Wizarding Brooklyn, New York**

Lyra snuggled into her mother's side on the couch and pretended to listen to her dad talk about a fascinating experiment he'd seen in some potions periodical earlier that day. She adored her father, she really did, but his idea of hearthside Christmas tales always had a surplus of scorpion venom and a lack of enchanted reindeer.

She was roused from her musing by a curt knock on the door.

"Are Grandma and Grandpa coming tonight?" She asked, disentangling herself from her mom to head into the foyer.

"No. They're in Florida," her dad answered.

"Florida! Those bums!" Lyra called back to him as she opened the door. A man in a smart black suit greeted her. She looked past him, down the stairs of her parent's brownstone to see a very sleek looking black car at the curb.

"Good evening and Merry Christmas. I'm looking for Miss Black, please," the man said formally.

"Uh...do you mean my mom?" Lyra asked, utterly puzzled.

"Miss Lyra Black," he clarified.

"Oh. That's me."

"Wonderful! Are you all set then?" He asked.

"Set?"

"Yes Miss. Your flight leaves in an hour."

"Flight?"

The man cocked his head to the side. "Well, yes Miss. I'm here to take you to the airport."

"I...I have no idea what you're talking about," Lyra said flatly. She was starting to get nervous that this was some kind of scam or cruel joke.

He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a folded piece of parchment, handing it to her. "For you."

Lyra looked at it and her heart started pounding. She'd forgotten how much she loved seeing her name in his handwriting. She opened it and read four simple words.

 **I'm sorry. Please come.**

Lyra huffed. _What is this? This isn't_ _an explanation._ She knew she should thank the driver and return to her family on the couch, but mentally, she was already out the door.

"Mom!" She yelled, returning to the living room. "I...I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll explain everything later. I just...there is something I need to do."

Her mother frowned. "Baby, what are you talking about?"

"Is everything alright?" Her dad asked, concerned.

"Yes. It's fine. It's perfectly safe. It's a Hogwarts thing. I'm so so sorry," Lyra babbled awkwardly retreating back towards the entryway.

"Wait a damn minute! You are not just up and going to Scotland on Christmas Eve! Tell me what is going on!" Her father exclaimed, following after her and spinning her around.

"Daddy please!" Lyra pleaded, tears gathering in her hazel eyes. "I would never leave you guys like this if it wasn't important. Please trust me."

Alistair Black hated seeing his daughter cry. It tore him apart. "I hear you, honey, but you have to tell us what's going on," he said, feeling his wife come up behind him.

Lyra's gaze flitted nervously back and forth between her parents. _Lie_ , her inner monologue told her. _Lie like a champion_.

"It's Draco," she answered honestly, looking at her mom. "He's...I don't really know. He's struggling right now and he wants my help." Draco hadn't explicitly told Lyra any of that of course, but she knew it in her bones to be the case.

"Well Lyra," her dad said gently. "I'm sorry that he's in a tough spot, but it doesn't mean you have to go running across the globe to hold his hand."

"Would you do it for mom?" Lyra asked.

"That's different," her dad replied.

"Not to me it isn't. I know I'm a kid, but I know how to love somebody. You guys show me everyday. It means you do the messy stuff. You support them through a crisis, even if you don't understand. You listen. You go out on a limb. You fly across the world on Christmas Eve. You would do that for each other and you would do it for me. That's love. And I know it's cheesy, but that's us. It's our family. It's what we do," Lyra argued. "I want to do it for him."

"Honey..." Her dad began.

"Let her go, Al," her mom chimed in softly. "She's right," she added, gripping gently on to her husband's arm.

Lyra was stunned.

"You will call every day. Twice tomorrow because it's Christmas," her mother explained seriously.

"Marla," her father started.

"Hey are we eating these crumble crusts or what?" her brother interjected loudly from the kitchen, where he had missed the entire exchange.

Lyra laughed, grateful for the comic relief and rushed into her mother's arms.

"I love you, baby," Marla said, enfolding her in a tight hug.

"Love you too, momma."

Her dad grumbled something unintelligible but wrapped his arms around his girls nonetheless.

"CAE! GET IN HERE AND SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR SISTER!" Her mom bellowed from within the group hug.

She bid farewell to her family and turned back to the driver. "I just need a minute to pack, I guess."

"No need, Miss. Everything, clothes and essentials, are already set on the plane for you. We do need to be on our way if we're to make it in time with all the traffic," the driver informed her.

"Right. Okay," Lyra answered, following him out the door without even grabbing her jacket.

* * *

 **Christmas Eve, 1996**  
 **Somewhere over the North Atlantic**

"More champagne, Miss?" The friendly steward asked.

"No, thank you," Lyra replied politely.

"Something to eat, perhaps? We have steak and lobster, or if you're in a sweeter mood, grapefruit parfait and crepes," he offered.

"Crepes?" Lyra asked.

"They're a bit like pancakes," the steward clarified.

Lyra's eyebrows shot up with interest. "Yes to crepes."

"Coming right up," he replied with a smile, before retreating for the galley at the back.

Lyra sighed and relaxed deeper in her plush reclining chair. It was an odd experience, being the only passenger on an airplane. She was used to crying babies, leg cramps and half a can of flat coke, not champagne and pancakes with a bedroom suite. The steward was nice enough, but the intensity of his attention had Lyra a little on edge.

After stuffing her face with crepes, she took some time to poke around the trunk that had been pointed out to her containing clothes and such. She wanted to see what kind of frilly, impractical nonsense Draco had sent for her to wear. She was pleasantly surprised. Cashmere sweaters, jeans, simple night dresses. He'd gotten a little carried away with the underwear, but that was to be expected. She pulled out a box at the bottom of the chest and opened it. It was a coat of thick wool, in snowy white. It was long and the cuffs and hood were lined with soft fur. Lyra's stomach lurched for a moment until she found a card inside the box that informed her that the fur was ''cut, not killed.'' She smiled as she pulled out a matching set of mittens.

"Excuse me?" She called out to get the attention of the steward.

"Yes Miss?"

"I can't believe I didn't think to ask before but, where exactly are we going?"

"Vigra," he answered kindly.

"Ummm."

"Alesund." He clarified.

"Right..."

"Norway," he whispered clearly, to spare her feelings.

"Oh! Excellent!" Lyra exclaimed.


	42. Chapter 42

**Author's Note - Sorry for the delay. I've been playing that infernal mobile game about the cursed vaults and it's sucking up more of my time and money than I would like to admit. Anyway, this chapter was fun to write and I hope you like it. -MM**

* * *

 **Christmas Day, 1996**  
 **Alesund, Norway**

It was still dark when she landed and Draco, much to the concern of his muggle driver, exited the car as soon as the plane touched down so he could watch it taxi towards them. He fidgeted nervously in the cold, unsure of how this was all going to go. Maybe she'd run at him and give him a good snog. Maybe it would be a slap. Maybe she wasn't even on the bloody thing.

The aircraft came to a halt just outside of the private hangar where he waited. It seemed a torturous amount of time passed before the door opened on the side of the fuselage. Draco held his breath and was disappointed to see the co-pilot and one of the attendants emerge first, carrying a large chest. They set it down next to the steps and returned back inside the plane. He deflated and leaned dejectedly on the boot of the car, but then he saw her.

She came out timidly, letting her eyes adjust to the bright lights of the airport. She was tired, he could tell. She never slept on airplanes. She was wearing only a sweater and jeans, which was hardly appropriate for the climate. _Where the devil was her jacket?_ At that moment, a gust of arctic air cut past, causing her hair to whip around her wildly, just as she locked eyes with him. She paused for a moment, as if unsure what to do at the sight of him. His stomach flipped anxiously, but in the next breath, she barreled down the steps and sped into his embrace.

He held her for a few seconds and then released her to unbutton his long black jacket and wrap them both in its thick fur. She burrowed into him and hid her face in his shoulder.

"Miss! Your coat!" The steward exclaimed behind her back.

Draco looked up to see the man hustling off the plane, waving the wool garment.

"It's alright. I've got her," he dismissed, pulling his witch closer to the warmth of his body.

He ushered her quickly into the car and got her settled on his lap, while her luggage was loaded. He draped her white jacket over her like a blanket and let her run her cold nose along his jaw.

After a few rubs, she paused and pulled back to look at him.

"I love you." "Are you growing a beard?" They spoke at the same time.

They laughed at the awkwardness of it all and Lyra brought her hand up to toy with the patchy hairs on his chin.

"Thank you for coming," he muttered.

Lyra hummed. "Doesn't mean I forgive you for being an evasive prick though."

Draco nodded.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

He sighed warily.

"Ok, fine then. Baby steps. Why don't you start by telling me about the beard," she parried.

He laughed and kissed her cheek as the car pulled out of the hangar to take them on to the retreat.

* * *

They drove about 30 minutes outside the city, to a small basin shaped valley situated between two snow covered peaks, and turned onto a long winding drive. Courtesy of the sparsely vegetated landscape, Lyra could clearly see that the road was leading them to what she assumed was a house.

It was remarkably angular in shape and reminded Lyra of the mountains around them. The frame of it appeared to be made of shaped metal and dark wood, but its overarching feature was the glass. The house was almost all windows. All of the interior lights were on and she could see a modern steel kitchen, a beautiful bedroom in a loft upstairs and through the house, facing the east, a large white bathtub and shower. When the car stopped outside the building, Lyra leaped out first and craned her head in 360 degrees, looking for neighboring structures, but other than a similarly modern looking barn, she saw nothing.

 _Well, I suppose that's reassuring_ , she thought to herself. In this house, any old person passing by could easily catch her changing her clothes or peeing. It was beautiful, to be sure, but also a bit...exposed?

"It's alright, sweetheart. I know a spell that keeps us being seen from the inside," Draco informed her. "You have my word that nobody out for a stroll will catch a glimpse of us shagging on the kitchen floor," he added. Lyra could hear the smirk in his voice.

She snorted and ascended the stone steps to the huge front door. She ran her fingers over the frigid silver handle and, to her surprise, the door swung open at her touch.

She entered and was enraptured by the sleek modernity of the place. She loved that none of the walls on the inside reached the ceiling, allowing light to move unimpeded through the entire house. Her dad, Alistair, would love that as well. They shared a taste in architecture. Clean lines, steel, glass and a bit of wood if you must. Open spaces, lots of air.

"Mum bought it for my father's birthday about five years back, but he didn't care for the look of it, so she gave it to me. The builder named it 'Tilfluksted,' but I call it the retreat. I've added you to the list of occupants for all the wards and spellwork, so the house will respond to you," Draco explained from behind her back as he watched her move around the foyer and the sitting room with her mouth hanging open.

"Are you telling me that your mom gave you an entire house when you were eleven?" She asked, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged. "I only started coming here about a year ago. I spent a lot of the summer here...when mum was sober enough to be left alone."

Lyra's face softened and she walked up to him. "Draco," she said gently, taking his hands in hers.

Draco sighed sadly and looked down at their entwined fingers. "I...didn't tell you before because it was your birthday and we didn't have much time but...my father...it's just that...he..." he trailed off, unsure of how to even begin.

"He's in prison," Lyra said calmly, with an empathetic nod. "I can't even imagine how hard that must be for you. And your poor mom...god," she continued while Draco stared at her in complete shock.

Lyra smoothed a gentle hand down the side of his face. "Severus told me." She hesitated. "In July."

"What?! Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, finding himself actually a bit ticked off. She'd intentionally kept a secret from him! She hadn't done that in years, the sneaky little minx.

"Because I know how complicated your relationship with your father is. I know you hate being pitied and I didn't want to put any of that on you or have you thinking that it changed anything, because it doesn't. I love you, I don't care who your dad is or what he's done or not done. I...I'm sorry if I played that wrong. You must have felt so alone. I just figured it probably put you in the middle of a swarm here and I wanted you to be able to talk to me about it on your own terms," she rambled, looking contrite.

Draco deflated and felt his irrational anger dissipate like vapor. Keeping a secret to protect someone you love? He was doing that and much worse to her at present. It was something he was in absolutely no position to judge her for.

"You mad?" She asked in a whisper, looking away from him.

"Always, but not at you," he muttered to her with a tired sigh, resting his forehead against hers.

She pulled back and gave him a sweet half smile. "It's okay to be mad, baby. Scream. Curse. Build a snowman version of your dad outside and blow him up. We can do it together," she encouraged playfully, hoping to make him smile.

He snorted at her suggestion and wrapped an arm around her. "That sounds lovely, actually. Why don't we do just that after a nap. I know you've had a long night, love," he offered, suppressing his urge to get her out of her clothes immediately. He didn't want to be selfish. Well he did, he just found that his natural selfishness took a very small but very important step back wherever she was concerned.

Lyra furrowed her brow and frowned at him. "I mean, yeah, I'm tired and all but...a nap?" She questioned with an edge.

He cocked his head in confusion.

Lyra scoffed. "I flew half the damn globe last night," she griped dramatically. "I am doing nothing until I've had you."

"Is that so?" He teased, using his silkiest voice.

She lifted her chin to him defiantly. "Yes it is," she informed him, winding her arms around his neck and slowly drawing his lips closer to hers.

He conceded that crucial final inch of separation and kissed her. She tasted a bit different today, like champagne and strawberries. He hummed decadently, savoring the flavor. Anxious not to waste another moment, he lifted her swiftly, hiking her legs around his hips and carrying her over to the huge sofa in the sitting room.

* * *

Lyra woke slowly. As she blinked her eyes open, she was startled for a moment by her unfamiliar but lovely surroundings. _Oh, right. Norway. Draco._ She smiled.

She was on the large couch in the living room, naked but cocooned in a rich down comforter. She shifted beneath it and felt that sweet tenderness between her legs that always followed a reunion with her wizard. He had been absolutely incredible. Purposeful and vigorous, seeking to spark her climax like a crazed potionsmaster on the edge of discovery.

Lyra felt so warm and content that she let out a noise of satisfaction that combined some elements of a yawn, a purr and a sigh.

"Alright, sweetheart?"

She lifted her head and saw a shirtless Draco smiling at her from the opposite end of the couch with a drink in one hand and book in the other. She meandered into his lap, displacing both drink and book with the vain indifference of a spoiled housecat. Draco didn't seem to mind.

"Did I sleep an entire day?" Lyra asked, looking out the large front window at the wintry darkness beyond.

"No. You've only been out about two hours. It's 10 o'clock in the morning," he informed her.

"But...where's the sun?" She asked in confusion.

"This time of year, there's only about 3 hours of sunlight in a day up here. Sun should be out in about an hour. You won't want to miss it."

"Mmm," she hummed, snuggling into his arms. "Wake me up in an hour?"

"Will do," he replied, running a hand through her black hair.

It was like Draco could feel his soul reentering his body as he held her. Her breath fanning across the naked skin of his chest was like dragonfire melting the stubborn ice from his bones. He was becoming himself again, as if her touch animated his body and her love made him human. He squeezed her closer to him and soaked up her closeness until the sun came up.

* * *

"The nose is wrong. Needs to be pointier," Lyra critiqued, squinting at the frosty effigy she and Draco were building in front of the retreat.

"I think it's about dead on, actually," Draco argued.

Lyra hummed. "Well, maybe it's just his personality that makes me recall it being pointier and a bit more twisted."

Draco sighed. "He and I have the same nose."

"Bullshit. Your nose is perfect. His nose is racist...and also incarcerated," Lyra tried her hand at a joke. She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She looked over at Draco to see him staring at the ground, conflicted. She let the snow she was hovering over to them drop to the earth and went to him. "I'm sorry baby, I shouldn't have said that. That was mean."

He shook his head. "I know you're just trying to help, but I..." he paused, struggling to find the words.

"He's your father. No matter how much pain he causes you, he's still your father," she offered.

He nodded down at his feet.

Lyra tipped his chin up to meet her eyes. "I get that bit, baby. You know I do," she said. "Severus is a prick, but I would be a total liar if I said that despite the headaches, despite the insults, I didn't love him in a way."

"You owe him," Draco noted.

"I do," Lyra confirmed. "But it doesn't mean I approve of the things he does. And it doesn't mean I can't build him out of fluff and blow him up," she said cheerily, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and whipping around to start building a snow Severus that they could explode.

After a quick few minutes, caricatures of the two unlikeable men were rendered crudely in the timeless medium of lumpy white snow.

"Would you feel more comfortable if you blew up my dad and I blew up yours?" She asked sweetly.

"I'd like that," he replied with a laugh.

They switched spots and then retreated to a safe distance.

"Wand at the ready," Lyra said formally, bringing her wand in front of her face and then out to the side in a dueling salute. She heard the sharp swish of Draco following suit next to her.

They bowed in unison to their snowmen and then turned and paced 4 steps away before turning back.

"On your count, Mr. Malfoy," Lyra said, setting her stance.

"One. Two. Three-"

"BOMBARDA!" "REDUCTO!"

Both snow figures exploded impressively. Draco's into large pebbly fragments and Lyra's into fine powder. They both started laughing hysterically at the sight and the overall absurdity of what they'd just done.

Lyra's laughter faded first and she noticed that, despite the sun being out and the sky being clear, it was snowing on them. It took her a second to realize that it was from their respective spells. It was beautful and refreshing. She looked over at Draco who was still chuckling. She smiled. "Merry Christmas, baby.''

He pulled her into him and pressed his cheek to her hair. "Merry Christmas, love," he said warmly.


	43. Chapter 43

**December, 1996**  
 **Alesund, Norway**

"No. What else is there?"

"Sweetheart, it's just fish," Draco reasoned.

"Like hell! It's looking at me right now! I can see an eyeball! I have had it up to here with your weird rich people food. Let me ask you this. If we were in New York instead, would you eat a hot dog with me?"

"A dog?! That's barbaric!" Draco interjected. "Absolutely not."

Lyra rolled her eyes. "It's not a dog. It's a sausage. You buy them on the street," she explained.

He twitched his jaw and said nothing.

"See!" Lyra exclaimed.

He rolled his eyes and she narrowed hers in response.

"Potato. I want a potato," Lyra said very seriously.

Draco broke with an amused snort.

Lyra took advantage of his mirth and hunched over, approaching him like an old crone. "You're a handsome young man. And such noble stock. Please, give us a potato, dearie," she croaked at him, pawing at his chest with faux feebleness.

At that, he roared with laughter and caught her wrists in his hands. "Not on your life, wretch," he proclaimed, as soon as his laughter allowed.

Lyra pouted adorably and he brought his lips to her forehead, letting his nose sample the familiar scent of her hair. She melted into him after a moment or so, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Draco held her to him and felt a lightness that he hadn't experienced in quite some time. He wanted to live in this moment forever. A moment where he felt free. Free to keep her. Free to belong to her.

"I love you very much," he whispered to her, unable to stop himself.

She grunted into his shoulder, ignorant to his thoughts which, if anything, made her more endearing to him.

"Potato?" She asked sweetly, the word muffled by the fabric of Draco's shirt.

Draco sighed, half in annoyance and half in contentment. "Alright. I'll find you a potato."

* * *

Lyra was upstairs in the spacious loft bedroom, picking out something to wear to bed, when she heard the dulcet sound of soft piano music begin to float through the open air of the house.

She knew he could play, of course. She'd seen it in his memories numerous times, but she'd never heard him in person. Knowing her very own wizard was the source of the pleasant noise definitely piqued her interest in many ways. She decided to forgo her typical night dress and quickly donned the prettiest bit of lingerie that he'd gotten her, covered up with a white silk bathrobe and headed downstairs to listen.

She descended the stairs and found her way to the large living space. Draco had extinguished almost all of the lights after dinner to take advantage of the starlight and the aurora, which Lyra could see dancing over the mountains in ribbons of shimmering green. Draco, as expected, was seated at the piano in the corner, lost in concentration. She watched his elegant hands move aptly over the keys and hoped those hands would move over her body with similar skill very soon.

She approached him slowly from behind and ran a gentle palm down his spine. He was wearing a simple blue t-shirt, but he was Draco so it was luxuriously soft, probably some enchanted Egyptian cotton infused with silk. He jumped slightly at her touch, but didn't miss a beat.

"How's you mum?" He asked. While upstairs, she had also been making good on her promise to her mother to call every day.

"She's fine. Wants to know if I've seen any gnomes," Lyra answered in jest.

"We're actually a little far north for them," he replied, completely serious.

"Aww, damn."

He snorted and leaned back into her touch, pausing his music.

"Can I watch you?" Lyra asked softly.

"If you like."

Lyra planted a gentle kiss on the back of his neck and summoned one of the large, overstuffed chairs to sit in front of the piano. As she settled into it, her robe opened high on her thigh, which Draco noticed. Lyra smirked and felt that familiar heat between them start to build as he pried his eyes from her legs and returned to his keys.

He picked something simple, that he could play blindfolded if need be. Something slow and heavy that he could use to put all the right kind of pressure on his pretty little witch.

Lyra recognized it almost immediately and smiled. "Even I know this one."

"A miracle, indeed," he remarked.

She scoffed at the insult and shifted so she was wrapped more modestly in her robe.

Draco frowned at having lost sight of her caramel thigh and decided to have a bit of fun with her.

"Do you know why my mother wanted me to learn how to play?" He asked her.

"To stop you from constantly talking about how awesome you think you are?" Lyra offered, sweetly.

He smiled, keeping his gaze down and the notes sweet and unlabored. "I could charm this instrument to play anything I want. Rachmaninov, Chopin, Gershwin and it would be as simple as levitating a teacup. I have that power, you have that power. Why shouldn't we use it? What possible lesson is there in making a wizard draw the music out without magic," he mused.

He let her mull it over for a few seconds before he continued.

"Patience," he muttered darkly, letting his silver eyes roam over body hungrily.

Lyra felt her breath start to quicken.

"Discipline," he added.

She closed her eyes to block out the painfully sexy sight of him.

"Focus," he continued, fighting his urge to grin at the effect his simple words had on her.

She dug her nails into the upholstered armrests of the chair. _God, his voice..._

"Manual dexterity," he said, with careful annunciation of every syllable.

She scoffed.

"Lyra?"

Lyra decided to ignore him, keeping her eyes closed, until her blush came down.

He chuckled and left her alone with the music and her dirty thoughts for a moment.

"Sweetheart, I want you to take that robe off while I play for you," he cooed.

Lyra opened her eyes and brought her hands to the silky rope around her waist. She undid it slowly and let the robe cascade off her shoulders. She leaned back into the chair and crossed her legs, indicating she was ready for him to make his next request. He was playing with her and she knew it. _Fine_ , she thought to herself. _Let him play_.

"Fuck," he whispered. She was wearing a bra and panties that were made of some white gauzy material that he could see through. The only thing obstructing his view was a strategic smattering of delicate pink and blue flowers embroidered into the material to cover her nipples and sex. "Take your hair down for me."

She smiled and pulled the elastic unceremoniously from her ponytail, causing her hair to fall wild around her shoulders. She had to admit that, as a naturally bossy person herself, she didn't mind at all when Draco gave her instructions like this. It made her feel sexy.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, in a deep voice.

Lyra paled a fraction before a fierce blush exploded across her skin. She didn't move.

"Close your eyes, listen to the music, and touch yourself," he expanded. "I'll tell you what to do."

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

"That's it, love. Uncross your legs," he encouraged.

Lyra did so, letting them open to his view.

"Now, I want you to touch your pretty tits for me."

She raised her hands slowly and cupped her breasts over her bra.

"Mmmm...good girl. Take one hand down your stomach."

Lyra complied, moving one of her palms over her abdomen towards her panties while the fingers of her other hand toyed with a nipple, making it stiffen to a tight peak.

"Almost there. You know how it's done."

She nodded and dipped under the band of her underwear, sighing as she skimmed her fingers along the warm petals of flesh that were now silky with arousal, courtesy of Draco's voice, the music, and the whole situation. They had never done anything quite like this before and, although she was still a bit shy, she knew that she would follow him willingly into whatever fantasy he had in mind. Hell, she'd already followed him halfway across the world, so masturbating for him while he filled the air with intoxicating music seemed a pretty small step.

She carried on, readjusting her focus to her clit, and letting herself get lost in the melody.

Draco watched her start to writhe, her hips undulating fluidly in time both with her fingers on her body and his on the piano keys. _If this isn't the greatest idea you've ever had, Malfoy. I don't know what is_ , he thought to himself. He quickly grabbed his wand from atop the piano and seamlessly charmed the instrument to carry on playing. He stood and starting stalking towards her like a predator. Her eyes were screwed shut and she was flushed from her efforts. He smiled and knelt down in front of her.

"Sweetheart," he muttered.

She jumped at the closeness of his voice but didn't open her eyes, or stop pleasuring herself.

"I'm here," he purred, trailing the pads of his fingers softly over the tops of her feet. He leaned in and kissed the inside of one of her thighs, making her jerk and moan. He swept his hands up her legs and gripped on to her underwear. "Lift your hips."

Lyra did so with out hesitation and he rid her of her panties in one smooth motion.

"Mmmm," he hummed as she resumed, his eyes focused on her gorgeous pink pussy, swollen and slick with her passion. "You look delicious," he noted planting his hands firmly on her ass and drawing her hips towards his face, dipping in to taste her.

She moved her hand without complaint and pressed into him, whimpering his name.

He loved hearing his name on her lips, desperate and aching, like a prayer. He pulled her closer, towards the end of the chair and had at her. Lyra buried both of her hands in his hair and held him in place. He growled into her as her nails raked possessively down his scalp.

He slipped 2 fingers inside her as he sucked on her clit and she shivered beneath him. She was tight and ready to come for him, he could feel it. He slowed down, swirling his tongue so gently over her flesh. When she came, he was barely moving his mouth, just letting her grind against his face while she cried out, lost in her peak.

"Oh wow," she breathed, letting her body fall back limp against the chair.

He gave her one final lick, to savor her taste, and leaned back a bit to smirk at her.

"Take me upstairs," she panted to him, still coming down from her high.

He lifted her in his arms and carried her up the stairs while she softly kissed and licked her climax from his mouth. He set her gently on the edge of the large fluffy bed. She leaned back and opened her legs for him.

"I want you naked. Now," she said to him very seriously.

He whipped his shirt off while she attacked his trousers. Once she had him bare, she paused and took a moment to admire him. Pale skin, smooth as silk, illuminated by the silver of the moon and the green of the aurora overhead. "You're beautiful, baby. I'm so lucky to have you," she whispered as she leaned forward, watching his eyes glint in the low light.

"I'm so lucky to get to touch this stomach," she purred, leaning in to kiss him there, causing his muscles to ripple pleasurably under her lips. "Mmmm, and this chest," she continued, trailing her palm down his skin.

He made a choked sound and tilted his head back.

Lyra smiled up at him, though he couldn't see her. "So lucky to have this cock," she teased, taking him in her hand. She leaned closer and swirled her tongue around the engorged head of him.

"Fuck," he hissed.

Lyra hummed and took him properly into her mouth. She had no clue what she was doing, but whatever she was doing seemed alright by Draco, he was going absolutely crazy, panting and moaning like an ill practiced virgin.

"I...I don't think I'll be able to stand much longer," he rasped to her after only a few moments.

She popped off him with a wet smack and looked up at him with her melted honey eyes, still moving her hands smoothly up and down his aching shaft. "Then lay down, love," she cooed to him, parroting something he'd said to her the first time he'd had his mouth between her legs.

Draco growled and pounced on her, pushing her on to her back and covering her body with his, his thick cock pressing hard against her pussy, demanding entry. "I need to be inside you. Let me inside you," he panted against her mouth.

"Yes. I need you. I need you," she panted back.

He pulled at her waist roughly to angle her better and thrust himself into her. She was indescribable. There were no words that could fully do justice to how she felt. The closest he got was _home_. Being inside her was like being home. Where he was just himself. Loved. Wanted. Safe.

She buried her face in the side of his neck and keened as he opened her, not from pain, in fact...it was quite the opposite. She decided that tonight, she would tell him all about it.

"I love being so close to you, baby. You feel so good. On top of me. Inside me."

He grunted and shivered in her arms. She bit her lip and pulled him closer onto her.

"Does it feel good? Having your cock inside me?" She asked sweetly, her mouth pressed to her ear.

He moaned in affirmation.

She hummed decadently.

"Nobody's ever been inside me but you," she reminded him between gasping breaths. "Do you like that, baby? Being the only man who knows what I feel like like? What I taste like?" She teased.

"Yes," he gasped as he pumped into her.

Lyra purred and let her hips start bucking up to meet his. "You do, don't you. You like being the only one who makes me come. Mmmm and you do. You make me come so hard. You're so good to me, baby."

Draco groaned at her words. "Gods, sweetheart. How do you do that? How do you make me feel so fucking good? Why are you so fucking good?" He babbled in time with his forceful thrusts into her pliant body.

She moaned and pulled him even closer to her, so there wasn't a single breath of air separating them. She didn't have an answer for him, so she simply sang out her sultriest moan, the one she knew he loved most, into the warm skin beneath his ear. She could feel his pace pick up with that urgent anxiety that always overtook his body when he was chasing down his climax.

She opened her legs wider for him and canted her pelvis, so his cock filled her just a little more deeply.

"Tell me I'm yours," Draco panted roughly.

"You're mine, baby. You're mine. Your body is mine. Your cock is mine. I want it. Fuck. You're mine. I love you," Lyra gasped as Draco bucked wildly between her thighs.

"Oh my fucking God, Lyra," he moaned, curling his fingers into her long black hair, burying his face in her shoulder and shuddering helplessly as he poured himself into her wet heat.

Lyra felt him twitch and burst inside her, giving her the warm rush that she craved. The intimacy of that moment never failed to leave her breathless. It was too good, too sweet, too perfect. She bit her lip and savored the feeling of her wizard coming down in her arms. She held him tight, enjoying the vital thump of his heart against her chest. After a few minutes passed, she was about to ask him if he was alright when...

"Say it again," he whispered into her hair, which was fanned haphazardly across the pillow.

She smiled and softly kissed along his sweat-dotted shoulder. "You're mine," she whispered back.

* * *

 **Author's Note** \- Sorry this took forever. I kept rewriting it, feeling like it was too adult, but then realized I'd probably be rewriting it forever if I didn't just take the plunge. So the message in this scene is that while Draco is clearly a dominant partner, his base desire is to be Lyra's. To belong to her. To have the kind of freedom, the kind of life where he can give himself to her in every way. That's what he dreams about, but can't really explain to her because of his situation, his age, his pride...take your pick really. Hope you like it. Happy reading! -MM


End file.
